THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 


THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 

OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOX'ELS 

PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 


StlUOEH  COLLECTION 


PECULIAR 


A  Tale  of  the  Great  Transition 


By    EPES    SARGENT 


^. 


NEW     YORK 
CARLETON,    PUBLISHER,   413   BROADWAY 

M  DCCC  LXiV 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1863,  by 

E  PES     SARGENT, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


University  Press: 
Welch,   Bigelow,   and  CoMfA.w, 

Ca-Mbridqe. 


CONTENTS 


Chapter 

I.  A  Glance  in  the  Mirror 

11.  A  Matrimonial  Blank 

III.  The  Wolf  and  the  Lamb 

IV.  A  Fugitive  Chattel     .  .          .         . 
V.  A  Eetrospect    .          .  .          . 

VI.  Pin-holes  in  the  Curtain    . 

VII.  An  Unconscious  Heiress  . 

VIII.  A  Descendant  of  the  Cavaliers 

IX.  The  Upper  and  the  Loaver  Law     . 

X.  Groups  on  the  Deck    .         .         .         . 

XI.  Mr.  Onslow  speaks  his  Mind 

XII.  The  Story  of  Estelle 

XIIL  Fire  up! 

XIV.  Waiting  for  the  Summoner 

XV.  Who  shall  be  Heir  ?        .         .         . 

XVI.  The  Vendue 

XVII.  Shall  there  be  a  Wedding  1  . 

XVIII.  The  Unities  Disregarded     . 

XIX.  The  White  Slave     .... 

XX.  Encounters  at  the  St.  Charles  . 

XXI.  A  Monster  of  Ingratitude 

XXII.  The  Young  Lady  with  a  Carpet-Bag 

XXIII.  Will  you  walk   into  my  Parlor?  . 


Paob 
1 

6 

12 

19 

28 

34 

46 

57 

69 

81 

97 

105 

148 

151 

158 

165 

178 

183 

187/ 

200 

219 

2U 

233 


603224 


IV  CONTENTS. 

XXIV.  CONFESSIOKS    OF    A    MeAN    WhITE                       .             .  240 

XXV  Meetings  and  Partings 251 

XXVI.  Clara  makes  an  Important  Plrciiase    .         .  2.57 

XXVII.  Delight  and  Dcty 264 

XXVIII.  A  Letter  of  Business 274 

XXIX.  The  Woman  who  Deliberates  is  Lost      .         .  279 

XXX.  A  Feminine  Van  Amburgh      ....  290 

XXXI.  One  of  the  Institutions 300 

XXXII.  A  Double  Victory 305 

XXXIII.  Satan  amuses  Himself         .....  314 

XXXIV.  Light  from  the  Pit 327 

XXXV.  The  Committee  adjourns    .....  335 

XXXVI.  The  Occupant  of  the  White  House      .         .  349 

XXXVII.  Comparing  Notes 359 

XXXVIII.  The  Lawyer  and  the  Lady    ....  372 

XXXIX.  Seeing  is  Believing 382 

XL.  The  Remarkable  Man  at  Richmond       .          .  392 

XLI.  Hopes  and  Fears 397 

XLII.  How  IT  was  done 430 

XLIII.  Making  the  best  of  it       .         .         .         .         .  442 

XLIV.  A  Domestic  Reconnoissance   ....  455 

XLV.  Another  Descendant  of  the  Cavaliers    .         .  4fi4 

XL VI.  The  Night  cometh 471 

XL VII.  An  Autumnal  Visit 480 

XLVIII.  Time  Discovers  and  Covers  ....  489 

XLIX.  Eyes  to  the  Blind      ......  493 


PECULIAR. 


CHAPTER    I. 

A   GLANCE  IN  THE  MIRROR. 

"  Wed  not  for  wealth,  Emily,  without  love,  — 't  is  gaudy  slavery  ;  nor  for  love  without 
competence,  —  'tis  twofold  misery."  —  Colman''s  Poor  Gentleman. 

IT  is  a  small  and  somewhat  faded  room  in  an  unpretending 
brick  house  in  one  of  the  streets  that  intersect  Broadway, 
somewhere  between  Canal  Street  and  the  Park.  A  woman 
sits  at  a  writing-table,  with  the  fingers  of  her  left  hand  thrust 
through  her  hair  and  supporting  her  forehead,  while  in  her 
right  hand  she  holds  a  pen  with  which  she  listlessly  draws 
figures,  crosses,  circles  and  triangles,  faces  and  trees,  on  the 
blotting-paper  that  partly  covers  a  letter  which  she  has  been 
inditing. 

A  window  near  by  is  open  at  the  top.  March,  having  come 
in  like  a  lion,  is  going  out  like  a  lamb.  A  canary-bird,  intoxi- 
cated with  the  ambrosial  breath  and  subduing  sunshine  of  the 
first  mild  day  of  spring,  is  pouring  forth  such  a  Te  Deum  lau- 
damus  as  Mozart  himself  would  have  despaired  of  rivaUing. 
Yesterday's  rain-storm  purified  the  atmosphere,  swept  clean 
the  streets,  and  deodorized  the  open  gutters,  that  in  warm 
weather  poison  with  their  effluvium  the  air  of  the  great  Ameri- 
can metropolis. 

On  the  wall,  in  front  of  the  lady  at  the  table,  hangs  a  mirror. 
Look,  now,  and  you  will  catch  in  it  the  reflection  of  her  face. 
Forty?  Not  far  from  it.  Perhaps  four  or  five  years  on  the 
sunny  side.  Fair  ?  Many  persons  would  call  her  still  beau- 
tiful. The  features,  though  somev^at  thin,  show  their  fine 
1  ^ 


2  PECULIAR. 

Grecian  outline.  The  hair  is  of  a  rich  flaxen,  the  eyes  bhie 
and  mild,  the  mouth  delicately  drawn,  showing  Cupid's  bow  in 
the  curve  of  the  upper  lip,  and  disclosisg,  not  too  ostentatious- 
ly, the  whitest  teeth. 

Her  dress  is  significant  of  past  rather  than  present  familiari- 
ty with  a  fashionable  wardrobe.  If  she  ever  wore  jewels,  she 
has  parted  with  all  of  them,  for  there  is  not  even  a  plain  gold 
ring  on  her  forefinger.  Her  robe  is  a  simple  brown  cash- 
mere, not  so  distended  by  crinoline  as  to  disguise  her  natural 
figure,  which  is  erect,  of  the  average  height,  and  harmoniously 
rounded.  We  detect  this  the  better  as  she  rises,  looks  a  mo- 
ment sorrowfully  in  the  glass,  and  sighs  to  herself,  "  Fading ! 
fading !  " 

There  is  a  gentle  knock  at  the  door,  and  to  her  "  Come  in," 
an  old  black  man  enters. 

"  Good  morning,  Toussaint,"  says  the  lady ;  "  what  have  you 
there?" 

"  Only  a  few  grapes  for  Madame.  They  are  Black  Ham- 
burgs,  and  very  sweet.  I  hope  Madame  will  relish  them. 
They  will  do  her  good.     Will  she  try  some  of  them  now  ?  " 

"  They  are  excellent,  Toussaint.  And  w  hat  a  beautiful  bas- 
ket you  have  brought  them  in  !  You  must  have  paid  high  for 
all  this  fruit,  so  early  in  the  season.  Indeed,  you  must  not  run 
into  such  extravagances  on  my  account." 

"  Does  Madame  find  her  cough  any  better  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,  Toussaint,  I  do  not  notice  much  change  in  it 
as  yet.  Perhaps  a  few  more  mild  days  like  this  will  benefit 
me.     How  is  Juhette  ?  " 

"  Passahlement  hien.  Pretty  well.  May  I  ask  —  ahem  ! 
Madame  ^vill  excuse  the  question  —  but  does  her  husband  treat 
her  with  any  more  consideration  now  that  she  is  ill  ?  " 

"  My  good  Toussaint,  I  grieve  to  say  that  Mr.  Charlton  is 
not  so  much  softened  as  irritated  by  my  illness.  It  threatens 
to  be  expensive,  you  see." 

"  Ah  !  but  that  is  sad,  —  sad  !  I  wish  IMadame  were  in  my 
house.  Such  care  as  Juliette  and  I  would  take  of  her  !  You 
look  so  much  like  your  mother,  Madame  !  I  knew  her  before 
her  first  marriage.  I  dressed  her  hair  the  day  of  her  wedding. 
People  used  to  call  her  ^roud.     But  she  was  alw^ays  kind  to 


A   GLANCE  IN   THE   MIRROR.  3 

me,  —  very  kind.  And  you  look  like  her  so  mucli !  As  I 
grow  old  I  think  all  the  more  of  my  old  and  early  friends,  — 
the  first  I  had  when  I  came  to  New  York  from  St.  Domingo. 
Most  of  them  are  dead,  but  I  find  out  their  children  if  I  can  ; 
and  if  they  are  sick  I  amuse  myself  by  carrying  them  a  few 
grapes  or  flowers.  They  are  very  good  to  indulge  me  by 
accepting  such  trifles." 

"  Toussaint,  the  goodness  is  all  on  your  side.  These  grapes 
are  no  trifle,  and  you  ought  to  know  it.  I  thank  you  for  them 
heartily.     Let  me  give  you  back  the  basket." 

"  No,  please  don't.  Keep  it.  Good  morning,  Madame !  Be 
cheerful.  Le  bon  temps  reviendra.  All  shall  be  well.  Bon 
jour  !     Au  revoir,  Madame  ! " 

He  hurries  out  of  the  room,  but  instantly  returns,  and,  tak- 
ing a  leaf  of  fresh  lettuce  out  of  his  pocket,  reaches  up  on 
tiptoe  and  puts  it  between  the  bars  of  the  bird-cage.  "  I  was 
nigh  forgetting  the  lettuce  for  the  bird,"  says  he.  "  Madame 
will  excuse  my  gaucherie."  And,  bowing  low,  he  again  disap- 
pears. 

The  story  of  Emily  Bute  Charlton  may  be  briefly  told. 
Her  mother,  Mrs.  Danby,  was  descended  from  that  John  Brad- 
shaw  who  was  president  of  the  court  which  tried  Charles  the 
First,  and  who  opposed  a  spirited  resistance  to  the  usurpation 
of  Cromwell  in  dissolving  the  Parliament.  Mrs.  Danby  was 
proud  of  her  family  tree.  In  her  twentieth  year  she  was  left 
a  widow,  beautiful,  ambitious,  and  poor,  with  one  child,  a 
daughter,  who  afterwards  had  in  Emily  a  half-sister.  This 
first  daughter  had  been  educated  carefully,  but  she  had  hardly 
reached  her  seventeenth  year  when  she  accepted  the  addresses 
of  a  poor  man,  some  fifteen  years  her  senior,  of  the  name  of 
Berwick.  The  mother,  with  characteristic  energy,  opposed  the 
match,  but  it  was  of  no  use.  The  daughter  was  incurably  in 
love  ;  she  married,  and  the  mother  cast  her  off. 

Time  brought  about  its  revenges.  Mr.  Berwick  had  inher- 
ited ten  acres  of  land  on  the  island  of  Manhattan.  He  tried  to 
sell  it,  but  was  so  fortunate  as  to  find  nobody  to  buy.  So  he 
held  on  to  the  land,  and  by  hard  scratching  managed  to  pay 
the  taxes  on  it.  In  ten  years  the  ci^  had  crept  up  so  near  to 
his  dirty  acres  that  he  sold  half  of  them  for  a  hundred  thousand 


4  PECULIAR. 

dollai'S,  and  became  all  at  once  a  rich  man.  Meanwhile  liis 
wife's  mother,  Mrs.  Danbj,  after  remaining  fourteen  years  a 
widow,  showed  the  inconsistency  of  her  opposition  to  her 
daughter's  marriage  by  herself  making  an  imprudent  match. 
She  married  a  Mr.  Bute,  poor  and  inefficient,  l)ut  belonging  to 
"  one  of  the  first  families."  By  this  husband  she  had  one 
daughter,  Emily,  the  lady  at  whose  reflection  in  the  mirror  we 
have  just  been  looking. 

Emily  Bute,  like  her  half-sister,  Mrs.  Berwick,  who  was 
many  years  her  senior,  inherited  beauty,  and  was  quite  a  belle 
in  her  little  sphere  in  Philadelphia,  where  her  family  resitled. 
Her  mother,  who  had  repelled  Berwick  as  a  son-in-law  in  his 
adversity,  was  too  proud  to  try  to  propitiate  him  in  his  pros- 
perity. She  concealed  her  poverty  as  well  as  she  could  from 
her  daughter,  Mrs.  Berwick,  and  the  latter  had  often  to  resort 
to  stratagem  in  order  to  send  assistance  to  the  family.  At  last 
the  proud  mother  died ;  and  six  months  afterwards  her  first- 
born daughter,  Mrs.  Berwick,  died,  leavmg  one  child,  a  son, 
Henry  Berwick. 

Years  glided  on,  and  Mr.  Bute  had  hard  work  to  keep  the 
wolf  from  the  door.  He  was  one  of  those  persons  whose  ef- 
forts in  Hfe  are  continual  failures,  from  the  fact  that  they  cannot 
adapt  themselves  to  cii'cumstances,  —  cannot  pei^severe  during 
the  day  of  small  things  till  their  occupation,  by  gradual  devel- 
opment, becomes  profitable.  He  would  tii-e  of  an  employment 
the  moment  its  harvest  of  gold  seemed  remote.  Forever 
sanguine  and  forever  unsuccessful,  he  at  last  found  himself  re- 
duced, with  his  daughter,  to  a  mode  of  life  that  bordered  on  the 
shabby. 

In  this  state  of  things,  'Mr.  Berwick,  like  a  timely  angel,  re- 
appeared, rich,  and  bearing  help.  He  was  charmed  with 
Emily,  as  he  had  formerly  been  wdth  her  half-sister.  He  pro- 
posed marriage.  ]SIi\  Bute  was  enchanted.  He  could  not 
conceive  of  Emily's  hesitating  for  a  moment.  Were  her  af- 
fections pre-engaged?  No.  She  had  been  a  little  of  a  flirt, 
and  that  perhaps  had  saved  her  from  a  serious  passion.  Wliy 
not,  then,  accept  Mr.  Berwdck  ?  He  was  so  old !  Old  ?  What 
is  a  seniority  of  thirty  years  ?  He  is  rich,  —  has  a  house  on 
the  Fifth  Avenue,  and  another  on  the  North  River.     What 


A   GLANCE  IN   THE  MIRROR.  5 

insanity  it  would  be  in  a  poor  girl  to  allow  such  a  chance  to 
slip  by! 

Still  Emily  bad  her  misgivings.  Pier  virginal  instincts  pro- 
tested against  the  sacrifice.  She  had  an  ideal  of  a  happy  life, 
which  certainly  did  not  lie  all  in  having  a  freestone  house, 
French  furniture,  and  a  carriage.  She  knew  the  bitterness  of 
poverty ;  but  was  she  quite  ready  to  marry  without  love  ?  Her 
father's  distresses  culminated,  and  drove  her  to  a  decision. 
She  became  Mrs.  Berwick ;  and  Mr.  Bute  was  presented  with 
ten  thousand  dollars  on  the  wedding-day.  He  forthwith  re- 
lieved himself  of  fifteen  hundred  in  the  purchase  of  a  "new 
patent-spring  phaeton "  and  span.  "  A  great  bargain,  sir ; 
splendid  creatures ;  spirited,  but  gentle ;  a  woman  can  drive 
them  ;  no  more  afraid  of  a  locomotive  than  of  a  stack  of  hay  ; 
the  carriage  in  prime  order  ;  has  n't  been  used  a  dozen  times ; 
will  stand  any  sort  of  a  shock  ;  the  property  of  my  friend, 
Garnett ;  he  would  n't  part  with  the  horses  if  he  could  afford  to 
keep  them ;  his  wife  is  quite  broken-hearted  at  the  idea  of 
losing  them ;  such  a  chance  does  n't  occur  once  in  ten  years ; 
you  can  sell  the  span  at  a  great  advance  in  the  spring." 

This  urgent  recommendation  from  "  a  particular  friend,  en- 
tirely disinterested,"  decided  Bute.  He  bought  the  "  establish- 
ment." The  next  day  as  he  was  taking  a  drive,  the  shriek 
of  a  steam-whistle  produced  such  an  eflfect  upon  his  incompara- 
ble span,  that  they  started  ofi"  at  headlong  speed,  ran  against  a 
telegraph-pole,  smashed  the  "  new  patent-spring  phaeton,'* 
threw  out  the  driver,  and  broke  his  neck  against  a  curb- 
stone ;  and  that  was  the  end  of  Mr.  Bute  for  this  world,  if 
we  may  judge  from  appearances. 

Emily's  marriage  did  not  turn  out  so  poorly  as  the  retribu- 
tions of  romance  might  demand.  But  on  Mr.  Berwick's  death 
she  followed  her  mother's  example,  and  married  a  second  time. 
She  became  Mrs.  Charlton.  Some  idea  of  the  consequences 
of  this  new  alliance  may  be  got  from  the  letter  wliich  she  has 
been  writing,  and  which  we  take  the  liberty  of  laying  before 
our  readers. 


rECUUAR 


CHAPTER   II. 

A  MATRIMONIAL   BLANK. 

"Time  doth  transfix  the  flourish  set  on  youth, 
And  delves  the  parallels  in  beauty's  brow." 

Shakespeare. 

To   HENRY  BERWICK,   Cincinnati. 

DEAR  HENRY :  You  kindly  left  word  for  me  to  write 
you.  I  have  little  of  a  cheering  nature  to  say  in  regard 
to  myself.  We  have  moved  from  the  house  in  Fourteenth 
Street  into  a  smaller  one  nearer  to  the  Park  and  to  Mr.  Charl- 
ton's business.  His  complaints  of  his  disappointment  in  regard 
to  mv  means  have  lately  grown  more  bitter.  Your  allowance, 
liberal  as  it  is,  seems  to  be  lightly  esteemed.  The  other  day 
he  twitted  me  with  setting  a  snare  for  him  by  pretending  to  be 
a  rich  widow.  0  Henry,  what  an  aggravation  of  insult !  I 
knew  nothing,  and  of  course  said  nothing,  as  to  the  extent  of 
your  father's  wealth.  I  supposed,  as  every  one  else  did,  that 
he  left  a  large  property.  His  affairs  proved  to  be  in  such  a 
state  that  they  could  not  be  disentangled  by  his  executors  till 
two  years  after  his  death.  Before  that  time  I  was  married  to 
Mr.  Charlton. 

Had  I  but  taken  your  warning,  and  seen  thi'ough  his  real 
feelings!  But  he  made  me  think  he  loved  me  for  myself 
alone,  and  he  artfully  excited  my  distrust  of  you  and  your  mo- 
tives. He  represented  his  own  means  as  ample  ;  though  for 
that  I  did  not  care  or  ask.  Repeatedly  he  protested  that  he 
would  prefer  to  take  me  without  a  cent  of  do^vry.  I  was  sim- 
pleton enough  to  believe  him,  though  he  was  ten  years  my 
junior.  I  fell  foohslily  in  love,  soon,  alas !  to  be  rudely  roused 
from  my  dream ! 

It  seems  like  a  judgment,  Hemy.  Y'ou  have  always  been 
as  kind  to  me  as  if  you  were  my  own  son.  Your  father  was 
so  much  my  senior,  that  you  may  well  suppose  I  did  not  marry 
him  from  love.     I  was  quite  young.     My  notions  on  the  sub- 


A  MATRIMONIAL  BLANK.  7 

ject  of  matrimony  were  unformed.  My  heart  was  free.  My 
father  urged  the  step  upon  me  as  one  that  would  save  him 
from  dire  and  absolute  destitution.  What  could  I  do,  after 
many  misgivings,  but  yield  ?  What  could  I  dof  I  now  well 
see  what  a  woman  of  real  moral  strength  and  determination 
could  and  ought  to  have  done.  But  it  is  too  late  to  sigh  over 
the  past. 

I  behaved  passably  well,  did  I  not  ?  in  the  capacity  of  your 
step-mother.  I  was  loyal,  even  in  thought,  to  my  husband, 
although  I  loved  him  only  with  the  sort  of  love  I  might  have 
entertained  for  my  grandfather.  You  were  but  two  or  three 
years  my  junior,  but  you  always  treated  me  as  if  I  were  a 
dowager  of  ninety.  As  I  now  look  back,  I  can  see  how  nobly 
and  chivalrously  you  bore  yourself,  though  at  the  time  I  did 
not  quite  understand  your  over-respectful  and  distant  de- 
meanor, or  why,  when  we  went  out  in  the  carriage,  you  always 
preferred  the  driver's  company  to  mine. 

Your  father  died,  and  for  a  year  and  a  half  I  conducted 
myself  in  a  manner  not  unworthy  of  his  widow  and  your 
mother.  At  the  end  of  that  period  Mr.  Charlton  appeared  at 
Berwickville.  He  dressed  pretty  well,  associated  with  gentle- 
men, was  rather  handsome,  and  professed  a  sincere  attachment 
for  myself.  Time  had  dealt  gently  with  me,  and  I  was  not 
aware  of  that  disparity  in  years  which  I  afterwards  learned 
existed  between  me  and  my  suitor.  In  an  unlucky  moment  I 
was  subdued  by  his  importunities.  I  consented  to  become  his 
wife. 

The  jfirst  six  months  of  our  marriage  glided  away  smoothly 
enough.  My  new  husband  treated  me  with  all  the  attention 
which  I  supposed  a  man  of  business  could  give.  If  the  vague 
thought  now  and  then  obtruded  itself  that  there  was  something 
to  me  undefined  and  unsounded  in  his  character,  I  thi'ust  the 
thought  from  me,  and  found  excuses  for  the  deficiency  which 
had  suggested  it.  One  trait  which  I  noticed  caused  me  some 
surprise.  He  always  discouraged  my  buying  new  dresses,  and 
grew  very  economical  in  providing  for  the  household.  I  am 
no  epicure,  but  have  been  accustomed  to  the  best  in  ai'ticles 
of  food.  I  soon  discovered  that  everything  in  the  way  of  pro- 
visions brought  into  the  house  was  of  a  cheap  or  deteriorated 
quality.     I  remonstrated,  and  there  was  a  reform. 


8  PECULIAR. 

One  bright  day  in  June,  two  gentlemen,  Mr.  Ken  and  Mr. 
Turner,  connected  with  the  management  of  your  father's  estate, 
appeared  at  Berwickville.  They  came  to  inform  me  that  my 
late  husband  had  died  insolvent,  and  that  the  house  we  then 
occupied  belonged  to  his  creditoi*s,  and  must  be  sold  at  once. 
^Ii".  Charlton  received  tliis  intelligence  in  silence  ;  but  I  was 
shocked  at  the  change  wrought  by  it  on  his  face.  In  tluit 
expression  disappointment  and  chagrin  of  the  intensest  kind 
seemed  concentrated.  Nothing  w^as  to  be  said,  however.  There 
were  the  documents  ;  there  were  the  facts,  —  the  stem,  irre- 
sistible facts  of  tlie  law.     The  house  must  be  given  up. 

After  these  bearers  of  ill-tidings  had  gone,  Mr.  Charlton 
turned  to  me.  But  I  will  not  pain  you  by  a  recital  of  what  he 
said.  He  rudely  dispelled  the  illusions  under  which  I  had 
been  laboiing  in  regard  to  him.  I  could  only  weep.  I  could 
not  utter  a  word  of  retahation.  Whilst  he  was  in  the  midst 
of  his  reproaches,  a  servant  brought  me  a  letter.  Mr.  Charl- 
ton snatched  it  from  my  hand,  opened,  and  read  it.  Either  it 
had  a  pacifying  effect  upon  liim,  or  he  had  exhausted  his  stock 
of  objurgations.  He  threw  the  letter  on  the  table  and  quitted 
the  room. 

It  was  yom'  letter  of  condolence  and  dutiful  regard,  promis- 
ing me  an  allowance  from  your  own  purse  of  a  hundred  dollai*s 
a  month.  What  coals  of  fire  it  heaped  on  my  head !  To 
please  Mr.  Charlton  I  had  quarrelled  with  you,  —  forbidden 
you  to  visit  or  write  me,  —  and  here  was  your  return  I  The 
communication  coming  close  upon  the  di'opping  of  my  hus- 
band's disguise  almost  unseated  my  reason.  What  a  night  of 
tears  that  was  !  I  recalled  your  warnings,  and  now  saw  their 
truth, —  saw  how  truly  disinterested  you  were  in  them  all. 
How  generous,  how  noble  you  appeared  to  me !  How  in  con- 
trast, alas  1  with  liim  I  had  taken  for  better  or  worse ! 

I  lay  awake  all  night.  Of  coui-se  I  could  not  think  of  ac- 
cepting your  offer.  In  the  first  place,  my  past  treatment  of 
you  forbade  it.  And  then  I  knew  that  your  own  means  were 
narrow,  and  that  you  had  just  entered  into  an  engagement  of 
marriage  with  a  poor  girl.  But  when,  the  next  day,  I  commu- 
nicated my  resolve  to  my  husband,  he  calmly  replied :  "  Non- 
sense !     Write  Mr.  Berwick,  thanking  him  for  his  offer,  and 


A  MATRIMONIAL  BLANK.  9 

telling  him  that,  small  as  the  sum  is,  considering  your  wants, 
you  accept  it."  What  a  poor  thing  you  must  have  thought  me, 
when  you  got  my  cold  letter  of  acceptance.  Do  me  the  justice 
to  believe  me  when  I  affirm  that  every  word  of  it  was  dictated 
by  my  husband.  How  I  have  longed  to  see  you  in  person,  to 
tell  you  all  that  I  have  endured  and  felt!  But  this  circum- 
stances have  prevented.  And  now  I  am  possessed  with  the 
'dea  that  I  never  shall  see  you  in  this  life  again.  And  that  is 
why  I  make  these  confessions.  Your  marriage,  your  absence 
in  Europe,  your  recent  return,  and  your  hurried  departure 
for  the  West,  have  kept  me  uncertain  as  to  where  a  message 
would  reach  you.  Yesterday  I  got  a  few  affectionate  lines 
from  you,  telling  me  a  letter,  if  mailed  at  once,  would  reach 
you  in  Cincinnati,  or,  if  a  week  later,  in  New  Orleans.  And 
so  I  am  devoting  the  forenoon  to  tins  review  of  my  past,  so 
painful  and  sad. 

Let  me  think  of  your  happier  lot,  and  rejoice  in  it.  So  your 
affairs  have  prospered  beyond  all  hope  !  Through  your  wife 
you  are  unexpectedly  rich  in  worldly  means.  Better  still,  you' 
ai'e  rich  in  affection.  Your  little  Clara  is  "  the  brightest,  the 
loveliest,  the  sunniest  little  thing  in  the  wide  world."  So  you 
write  me ;  and  I  can  well  believe  it  from  the  photograph  and 
the  lock  of  hair  you  send  me.  Bless  her !  What  would  I  give 
to  hug  her  to  my  bosom.  And  you  too,  Henry,  you  too  I 
could  kiss  with  a  kiss  that  should  be  purely  maternal,  —  a 
benediction,  —  a  kiss  your  wife  would  approve,  for,  after  all, 
you  are  the  only  child  I  have  had.  Mr.  Charlton  has  always 
said  he  would  have  no  children  till  he  was  a  rich  man.  He 
and  the  female  physician  he  employs  have  nearly  killed  me 
with  their  terrible  drugs.  Yes,  I  am  dying,  Henry.  Even  the 
breath  of  this  sweet  spring  morning  whispers  it  in  my  ear. 
Bless  you  and  yom-s  forever!  What  a  mistake  my  life  has 
been!  And  yet,  how  I  craved  to  love  and  be  loved!  You 
win  think  kindly  of  me  always,  and  teach  your  wife  and  child 
to  have  pleasant  associations  mth  my  name. 

All  the  rich  presents  your  father  made  me  have  been  sold  by 
Mr.  Charlton ;  but  I  have  one,  that  he  has  not  seen,  —  a  costly 
and  beautiful  gold  casket  for  jewels,  which  I  reserve  as  a  pres- 
ent for  your  little  Clara.     I  shall  to-morrow  pack  it  up  care- 


10  PECULIAR. 

fully,  and  take  it  to  a  friend,  who  I  know  ^vill  keep  and  deliver 
it  safely.  That  friend,  strange  as  it  may  sound  to  you,  is 
the  venerable  old  black  hair-dresser,  Toussaint,  who  lives  in 
Franklin  Street.  Your  father  used  to  say  he  had  never  met  a 
man  he  would  trust  before  Toussaint ;  and  I  can  say  as  much. 
Toussaint  used  to  dress  my  mother's  hair ;  he  is  now  my  ad- 
viser and  friend. 

Born  a  slave  in  the  town  of  St.  Mark  in  St.  Dominoro  in 

o 

1766,  Pierre  Toussaint  was  twelve  years  the  junior  of  that 
fellow-slave,  the  celebrated  Toussaint  TOuverture,  born  on  the 
same  river,  who  converted  a  mob  of  undrilled,  uneducated 
Africans  into  an  army  with  wliich  he  successively  overthrew 
the  forces  of  France,  England,  and  Spain.  At  the  beginning 
of  the  troubles  in  the  island,  in  1801,  Pierre  was  taken  by  his 
master,  the  wealthy  Mons.  Berard,  to  New  York.  Berard, 
having  lost  his  immense  property  in  St.  Domingo,  soon  died, 
and  Pierre,  having  learnt  the  business  of  a  hair-dresser,  sup- 
ported Madame  Berard  by  his  labors  some  eight  years  till  her 
death,  though  she  had  no  legal  claim  upon  his  service.  Bred 
up,  as  he  was,  indulgently,  Pierre's  is  one  of  those  exceptional 
cases  in  which  slavery  has  not  destroyed  the  moral  sense. 

I  know  of  few  more  truly  venerable  characters.  A  pious 
Catholic,  he  is  one  of  the  stanchest  of  friends.  One  of  his 
rules  thi'ough  life  has  been,  never  to  incur  a  debt,  —  to  pay  on 
the  spot  for  everything  he  buys.  And  yet  he  is  continually 
giving  away  large  sums  in  charity.  One  day  I  said,  ''  Tous- 
saint, you  are  rich  enough ;  you  have  more  than  you  want ; 
why  not  stop  working  now  ? "  He  answered,  "  Madame,  I 
have  enough  for  myself,  but  if  I  stop  work,  I  have  not  enough 
for  others !"  By  the  great  fire  of  1835,  Toussaint  lost  by  his 
investments  in  insurance  companies.  The  Schuylers  and  the 
Livingstons  passed  around  a  subscription-paper  to  repair  his 
losses ;  but  he  stopped  it,  saying  he  would  not  take  a  cent  from 
them,  since  there  were  so  many  who  needed  help  more  than  he. 

An  old  French  gentleman,  a  white  man,  once  rich,  whom 
Toussaint  had  known,  was  reduced  to  poverty  and  fell  sick. 
For  several  months  Toussaint  and  his  wife,  Juliette,  sent  him  a 
nicely  cooked  dinner ;  but  Toussaint  would  not  let  him  know 
from  whom  it  came,  "  because, "  said  the  negro,  "  it  might  hurt 
his  pride  to  know  it  came  from  a  black  man. "     Juliette  once 


A   MATRIMONIAL.  BLANK.  11 

called  on  this  invalid  to  leai'n  if  her  husband  could  be  of  any 
help.  "O  no,"  said  the  old  Monsieur,  "I  am  well  known  ;  I 
have  good  friends ;  every  day  they  send  me  a  dinner,  served  up 
in  French  style.  To-day  I  had  a  charming  vol-au-vent,  an 
omelette,  and  green  peas,  not  to  speak  of  salmon.  I  am  a  per- 
son of  some  importance,  you  see,  even  in  this  strange  land." 
And  Juliette  would  go  home,  and  she  andToussaint  would  have 
a  good  laugh  over  the  old  man's  vauntings  * 

But  what  has  possessed  me  to  enter  into  all  these  details !  I 
know  not,  unless  it  is  the  desire  to  escape  from  less  agreeable 
thoughts.  n      T  1 

I  liave  a  request  to  make,  Henry.  You  will  think  me  fancitul, 
foolish,  perhaps  fanatical;  and  yet  I  am  impelled,  by  an  unac- 
countable impression,  to  ask  you  to  give  up  the  tickets  you  tell 
me  you  have  engaged  in  the  Pontiac,  and  to  take  passage  for 
New  Orleans  in  some  other  boat.  If  you  ask  me  why,  the 
only  explanation  I  can  give  is,  that  the  thought  besets  me,  but 
the  reason  of  it  I  do  not  know.  Do  you  remember  I  once 
capriciously  refused  to  let  your  father  go  in  the  cars  to  Spring- 
field, although  his  baggage  was  on  board?  Those  cars  went 
through  the  draw-bridge,  and  many  lives  were  lost.  Write  me 
that  you  will  heed  my  request.  rr.  n  r 

And  now,  Henry,  son,  nephew,  friend,  good  by  I  TeU  little 
Clai-ashehasanaunt  or  gi-andmother  (wHch,  shaU  it  be  ?)  m 
New  York  who  loves  to  think  of  her  and  to  picture  the  fair 
forehead  over  which  the  Uttle  curl  you  sent  me  once  fell.  By  the 
way,  I  have  examined  her  photograph  with  a  microscope,  and 
have  conceived  a  fancy  that  her  eyes  are  of  a  slightly  different 
color ;  one  perhaps  a  gray  and  the  other  a  mixed  blue.  Am  I 
rio-ht?  Tell  your  wife  how  I  grieve  to  think  that  circumstan- 
ce! have  not  allowed  us  to  meet  and  become  personally  ac- 
quainted. You  now  know  all  the  influences  that  have  kept  us 
apart,  and  that  have  made  me  seem  frigid  and  ungrateful,  even 
when  my  heart  was  overflowing  with  affection.  What  more 
shall  I  say,  except  to  sum  up  all  my  love  for  you  and  all  my  grati- 
tude in  the  one  parting  prayer.  Heaven  bless  you  and  yours! 
Your  mother,  Emily  Charlton. 

*  Having  slept  under  Toussaint's  roof,  and  seen  him  often,  the  ^^^^^^ 
testifyTo  the  acLracy  of  this  sketch  of  one  of  the  most  thorough  gentlemen 
in  bearing  and  in  heart  that  he  ever  knew. 


12  FLCULIAK. 

CHAPTER    III. 

THE  WOLF  AND   THE   LAMB. 

"Bitten  by  rage  canine  of  dying  rich; 
Guilt's  blunder  I  and  the  loudest  laugh  of  hell !  " 

Young. 

THE  poor  little  lady !  First  sold  by  a  needy  parent  to  an 
old  man,  and  then  betrayed  by  her  own  uncalculating  aifec- 
tions  to  a  young  one,  whose  nature  had  the  torpor  without  the 
venerableness  of  age !  Her  heart,  full  of  all  loving  possibili- 
ties, had  steered  by  false  lights  and  been  wrecked.  Brief  had 
been  its  poor,  shattered  di-eam  of  household  joys  and  domestic 
amenities ! 

It  was  the  old,  old  story  of  the  cheat  and  the  dupe  ;  of  credu- 
lous innocence  overmatched  by  heartless  selfishness  and  fraud. 

The  young  man  "  of  genteel  appearance  and  addi-ess "  who 
last  week,  as  the  newspapers  tell  us,  got  a  supply  of  dry-goods 
from  Messi-s.  Raby  &  Co.,  under  false  pretences,  has  been  ar- 
rested, and  -^vill  be  duly  pmiished. 

But  the  scoundrel  who  tricks  a  confiding  woman  out  of  her 
freedom  and  her  happiness  under  the  false  pretences  of  a  dis- 
interested affection  and  the  desire  of  a  lo\Tng  home,  —  the 
swindler  who,  with  the  motives  of  a  devil  of  low  degree,  affects 
the  fervor  and  the  dispositions  of  a  loyal  heart,  —  for  such  an 
impostor  the  law  has  no  lash,  no  prison.  To  play  the  blackleg 
and  the  sharper  in  a  matter  of  the  affections  is  not  penal. 
Success  consecrates  the  ci-ime ;  and  the  victim,  when  her  eyes 
axe  at  length  opened  to  the  extent  of  the  deception  and  the 
misery,  must  continue  to  submit  to  a  yoke  at  once  hateful  and 
demoraHzing ;  she  must  submit,  unless  she  is  \\-illing  to  brave 
the  ban  of  society  and  the  persecutions  of  the  law. 

Ralph  Charlton,  when  he  gave  his  wife  Berwick's  letter  the 
night  before,  had  supposed  she  would  sit  down  to  pen  an  answer 
as  soon  as  she  was  alone.  And  so  the  next  morning,  after  vis- 
iting his  office  in  Fulton  Street,  he  retraced  his  steps,  mid  le- 


THE  WOLF  AND  THE  LAMB.  13 

entered  his  house  soon  after  Toussaint  had  left,  and  just  as  Mrs. 
Charlton  had  put  her  signature  to  the  last  page  of  the  manu- 
script, and,  bowing  her  forehead  on  her  pahns,  was  giving  vent 
to  sobs  of  bitter  emotion. 

Charlton  was  that  prodigy  in  nature,  —  a  young  man  in  whom 
an  avarice  that  would  have  been  remarkable  in  a  senile  miser 
had  put  in  subjection  all  the  other  passions.  Well  formed  and 
not  ungraceful,  his  countenance  was  at  first  rather  prepossessing 
and  propitiatory.  It  needed  a  keener  eye  than  that  of  the  ordi- 
nary physiognomist  to  penetrate  to  the  inner  nature.  It  was 
only  when  certain  expressions  flitted  over  the  features  that  they 
betrayed  him.  You  must  study  that  countenance  and  take  it  at 
unawares  before  you  could  divine  what  it  meant.  Age  had  not 
yet  hardened  it  in  the  mould  of  the  predominant  bias  of  the 
character.  Well  born  and  bred,  he  ought  to  have  been  a  gen- 
tleman, but  it  is  difficult  for  a  man  to  be  that  and  a  miser  at 
the  same  time.  There  was  little  in  his  style  of  dress  that  dis- 
tino-uished  him  from  the  mob  of  young  business-men,  except 
that  a  critical  eye  would  detect  that  his  clothes  were  well  pre- 
served. Few  of  his  old  coats  were  made  to  do  service  on  the 
backs  of  the  poor. 

Charlton  called  himself  a  lawyer,  his  specialty  being  con- 
veyancing and  real  estate  transactions.  His  one  purpose  in 
life  was  to  be  a  rich  man.  To  this  end  all  others  must  be  sub- 
ordinate. When  a  boy  he  had  been  taught  to  play  on  the 
flute ;  and  his  musical  taste,  if  cultivated,  might  have  been  a 
saving  element  of  grace.  But  finding  that  in  a  single  year  he 
had  spent  ten  dollars  in  concert  tickets,  he  indignantly  repudi- 
ated music,  and  shut  his  ears  even  to  the  hand-organs  in  the 
street.  He  had  inherited  a  fondness  for  fine  horses.  Before 
he  was  twenty-five  he  would  not  have  driven  out  after  Ethan 
Allen  himself,  if  there  had  been  any  toll-gate  keepers  to  pay. 
His  taste  in  articles  of  food  was  nice  and  discrimmating ;  but 
he  now  bought  fish  and  beef  of  the  cheapest,  and  patronized  a 
milkman  whose  cows  were  fed  on  the  refuse  of  the  distilleries. 

Charlton  was  not  venturous  in  speculation.  The  boldest  op- 
eration he  ever  attempted  was  that  of  his  marriage.  Before 
taking  that  step  he  had  satisfied  himself  in  regard  to  the  state 
of  the  late  Mr.  Berwick's  affairs.     They  could  be  disentangled, 


14  PECULIAR. 

and  marie  to  leave  a  balance  of  half  a  million  for  the  heirs,  if  a 
certain  lawsuit,  involving  a  large  amount  of  real  estate,  should 
be  decided  the  light  way.  Charlton  burrowed  and  inquired 
and  examined  till  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  suit  would 
go  in  favor  of  the  estate.  On  that  hint  he  took  time  by  the 
forelock,  and  married  the  widow.  To  his  consteiTiation  matters 
did  not  turn  out  as  he  had  hoped. 

As  Charlton  entered  his  wife's  room,  on  the  morning  she  had 
been  writing  the  letter  already  presented,  '•  What  is  all  this, 
madam  ? "  he  exclaimed,  advancing  and  twitching  away  the 
manuscript  that  lay  before  her. 

The  lady  thus  startled  rose  and  looked  at  him  without  speak- 
ing, as  if  struggling  to  comprehend  what  he  had  done.  At 
length  a  gleam  of  intelligence  flashed  from  her  eyes,  and  she 
mildly  said,  "  I  will  thank  you  to  give  me  back  those  papers : 
they  are  mine. " 

"  Mine,  Mrs.  Charlton  !  Where  did  you  learn  that  word  ?  " 
said  the  husband,  really  surprised  at  the  language  of  his  usually 
meek  and  acquiescent  helpmate. 

"  Do  you  not  mean  to  give  them  back  ?  " 

"  Assiu-edly  no.  To  whom  is  the  letter  addressed  ?  Ah !  I 
see.  To  Mr.  Henry  Berwick.  Highly  proper  that  I  should 
read  what  my  wife  writes  to  a  young  man. " 

"  Then  you  do  not  mean  to  give  the  letter  back,  Charltou  ?  " 

Another  surprise  for  the  husband!  At  first  she  used  to 
speak  to  him  as  "  Ralph,  "  or  "  deai' " ;  then  as  "  Mr.  Charl- 
ton " ;  then  as  "  Sir "  ;  and  now  it  was  plain  "  Charlton." 
What  did  it  portend? 

The  lady  held  out  her  hand,  as  if  to  receive  the  papers. 

"  Pooh !  "  said  the  husband,  striking  it  away.  "  Go  and 
attend  to  your  housework.  What  a  shrill  noise  your  canary 
is  making  !  That  bird  must  be  sold.  There  was  a  charge  of 
seventy-five  cents  for  canary-seed  in  my  last  gi'ocer's  bill !  It 's 
atrocious.  The  creature  is  eating  us  out  of  house  and  home. 
Bird  and  cage  would  bring,  at  least,  five  dollars." 

"  The  letter,  —  do  you  choose  to  give  it  back  ?  " 

"  If,  after  reading  it,  I  think  proper  to  send  it  to  its  address, 
it  shall  be  sent.     Give  yourself  no  further  concern  about  it." 

Mrs.  Charlton  advanced  with  folded  arms,  looked  him  un- 


THE  WOLF  AND  THE  LAMB.  15 

blenchingly  in  the  face,  and  gasped  forth,  with  a  husky,  half- 
choked  utterance,  "  Beware  !  " 

"  Truly,  madam,"  said  the  astonished  husband,  "  this  is  a 
new  character  for  you  to  appear  in,  and  one  for  which  I  am 
not  prepared." 

"  It  is  for  that  reason  I  say,  Beware !  Beware  when  the 
tame,  the  submissive,  the  uncomplaining  woman  is  roused  at 
last.     Will  you  give  me  that  letter  ?  " 

"  Go  to  the  Devil !  " 

Mrs.  Charlton  threw  out  her  hand  and  clutched  at  the  man- 
uscript, but  her  husband  had  anticipated  the  attempt  As 
she  closed  with  him  in  the  effort  to  recover  the  paper,  he 
threw  her  off  so  forcibly  that  she  fell  and  siruck  her  head 
against  one  of  the  protuberant  claws  of  the  legs  of  her  writing- 
table. 

Whatever  were  the  effects  of  the  blow,  it  did  not  prevent 
the  lady  from  rising  immediately,  and  composing  her  exuber- 
ant hair  with  a  gesture  of  puzzled  distress  that  would  have 
excited  pity  in  the  heart  of  a  Thug.  But  Charlton  did  not 
even  inquire  if  she  were  hurt.  After  a  pause  she  seemed  to 
recover  her  recollection,  and  then  threw  up  her  head  with  a 
lofty  gesture  of  resolve,  and  quitted  the  room. 

Her  husband  sat  down  and  read  the  letter.  His  equanimity 
was  unruffled  till  he  came  to  the  passage  where  the  writer 
alludes  to  the  gold  casket  she  had  put  aside  for  little  Clara. 
At  that  disclosure  he  started  to  his  feet,  and  gave  utterance 
to  a  hearty  execration  upon  the  woman  who  had  presumed  to 
circumvent  him  by  withholding  any  portion  of  her  effects. 
He  opened  the  door  and  called,  "  Wife ! "  No  voice  replied  to 
his  summons.  He  sought  her  in  her  chamber.  She  was  not 
there.  She  had  left  the  house.  So  Dorcas,  the  one  over- 
worked domestic  of  the  establishment,  assured  him. 

Charlton  saw  there  was  no  use  in  scolding.  So  he  put  on 
his  hat  and  walked  down  Broadway  to  his  office.  Here  he 
wrote  a  letter  which  he  wished  to  mail  before  one  o'clock.  It 
was  directed  to  Colonel  Delancy  Hyde,  Philadelphia.  Having 
finished  it  and  put  it  in  the  mail-box,  Charlton  took  his  way  at 
a  brisk  pace  to  the  house  of  old  Toussaint. 

That  veteran  himself  opened  the  door.     A  venerable  black 


l(i  PECULIAR. 

man,  reminding  one  of  Ben  Franklin  in  ebony.  His  wool  was 
gray,  his  complexion  of  the  blackest,  showing  an  unmixed  Af- 
rican descent.  He  was  of  middling  height,  and  stooped  shght- 
ly ;  was  attired  in  the  best  black  broadcloth,  with  a  white  vest 
and  neckcloth,  and  had  the  manners  of  a  French  marquis  of 
the  old  school. 

"  Is  my  wife  here  ?  "  asked  Charlton. 

"  Madame  is  here,"  replied  the  old  man  ;  "  but  she  suffers, 
and  prays  to  be  not  disturbed." 

"  I  must  see  her.     Conduct  me  to  her." 

"  Pardonnez.  Monsieur  will  comprehend  as  I  say  the  com- 
mands of  Madame  in  this  house  are  sacred." 

"  You  insolent  old  nigger  !  do  you  mean  to  tell  me  I  am  not 
to  see  my  own  wife  ?  " 

"  Precisement.     Monsieur  cannot  see  3Iadame  Charlton." 
"  I  '11  search  the  house  for  her,  at  any  rate.    Out  of  the  way, 
you  blasted  old  ape  ! " 

Here  a  policeman,  provided  for  the  occasion  by  Toussaint, 
and  who  had  been  smoking  in  the  front  room  opening  on  the 
hall,  made  his  appearance. 

"  You  can't  enter  this  house,"  said  Blake,  carelessly  knock- 
ing the  ashes  from  his  cigai*.  Charlton  had  a  wholesome  respect 
for  authority.  He  di-ew  back  on  seeing  the  imperturbable 
Blake,  with  the  official  star  on  his  breast,  and  said,  "  I  came 
here,  iMr.  Blake,  to  recover  a  little  gold  box  that  I  have  reason 
to  beheve  my  wiie  has  left  with  this  old  nigger." 

"  Well,  she  might  have  left  it  in  Avorse  hands,  —  eh,  Tous- 
saint ? "  said  Blake,  resuming  his  cigar ;  and  then,  removing 
it,  he  added,  "  If  you  call  tliis  old  man  a  nigger  again,  I  '11 
make  a  nigger  of  you  with  my  fist." 

Toussaint  might  have  taken  for  his  motto  that  of  the  old 
eating-house  near  the  Pai-k,  —  ^^ Semper  paratus.''  The  gold  box 
having  been  committed  to  him  to  deposit  in  a  place  of  safety, 
he  had  meditated  long  as  to  the  best  disposition  he  could  make 
of  it.  As  he  stood  at  the  window  of  his  house,  looking  thought- 
fully out,  he  saw  coming  up  the  street  a  gay  old  man,  swing- 
ing a  cane,  humming  an  opera  tune,  and  followed  by  a  little 
dog.  As  the  dashing  youth  drew  nearer,  Toussaint  recognized 
in  him  an  old  acquaintance,  and  a  man  not  many  years  his 
junior,  —  Mr.  Albert  Pompilard,  stock-broker,  Wall  Street. 


THE  WOLF  AND  THE  LAMB.  17 

No  two  men  could  be  more  unlike  tlian  Toussaint  and  Pom- 
pilard ;  and  yet  they  were  always  drawn  to  each  other  by  some 
subtle  points  of  attraction.  Pompilard  was  a  reckless  specu- 
lator and  spendthrift ;  Toussaint,  a  frugal  and  cautious  econo- 
mist ;  but  he  had  been  indebted  for  all  his  best  investments  to 
Pompilard.  Bold  and  often  audacious  in  his  own  operations, 
Pompilard  never  Avould  allow  Toussaint  to  stray  out  of  the 
path  of  prudence.  Not  unfrequently  Pompilard  would  founder 
in  his  operations  on  the  stock  exchange.  He  would  fall,  per- 
haps, to  a  depth  where  a  few  hundred  dollars  Avould  have  been 
hailed  as  a  rope  flung  to  a  drowning  man.  Toussaint  would 
often  come  to  him  at  these  times  and  offer  a  thousand  dollars 
or  so  as  a  loan.  Pompilard,  in  order  not  to  hurt  the  negro's 
feelings,  w^ould  take  it  and  pretend  to  use  it ;  but  it  would 
be  always  put  securely  aside,  out  of  his  reach,  or  deposited  in 
some  bank  to  Toussaint's  credit. 

Toussaint  stood  at  his  door  as  Pompilard  drew  nigh. 

''  Ha !  good  morning,  my  guide,  philosopher,  and  friend ! " 
exclaimed  the  stock-broker.  "  What 's  in  the  wdnd  now,  Tous- 
saint ?     Any  money  to  invest  ?  " 

"  No,  Mr.  Pomjiilard  ;  but  here  's  a  box  that  troubles  me." 

"  A  box  !  Not  a  pill-box,  I  hope  ?  Let  me  look  at  it. 
Beautiful!  beautiful,  exceedingly!  It  could  not  be  dupli- 
cated for  twelve  hundred  dollars.  Whose  is  it  ?  Ah  !  here  's 
an  inscription,  —  '  Henry  Berwick  to  Emily ^  Berwick  ?  It 
was  a  Henry  Berwick  who  married  my  wife's  niece,  Miss 
Aylesford." 

"  This  box,"  interposed  Toussaint,  "  was  the  gift  of  his  late 
father  to  his  second  wife,  the  present  Mrs.  Charlton." 

"  Ah  !  yes,  I  remember  the  connection  now." 

"  Mrs.  Charlton  wishes  me  to  deposit  the  box  where,  in  the 
event  of  her  death,  it  will  reach  the  daughter  of  the  present 
Mrs.  Berwick.     Here  is  the  direction  on  the  envelope." 

Pompilard  read  the  words  :  "  For  Clara  Aylesford  Berwick, 
daughter  of  Henry  Berwick,  Esq.,  to  be  delivered  to  her  in 
the  event  of  the  death  of  the  undersigned,  Emily  Charlton." 

"  I  will  tell  you  wdiat  to  do,"  said  Pompilard.  "  Here  come 
Isaac  Jonefe  of  the  Chemical  and  Arthur  Schermerhorn.  Isaac 
shfell  give  a  receipt  for  the  box  and  deposit  it  in  the  safe  of  the 


18  PECULIAR. 

bank,  there  to  be  kept  till  called  for  by  Miss  Clara  Berwick  or 
her  representative." 

"  That  will  do,"  said  Toussaint. 

The  two  gentlemen  were  called  in,  and  in  five  minutes  the 
proper  paper  was  drawn  up,  witnessed,  and  signed,  and  Mr. 
Jones  gave  a  ret'ei})t  for  the  box. 

Briefly  Toussaint  now  explained  to  Charlton  the  manner  in 
which  the  box  had  been  disposed  of.  Charlton  was  nonplussed. 
It  would  not  do  to  disgust  the  officials  at  the  Chemical.  It 
might  hurt  his  credit.  A  consolatory  reflection  struck  him. 
"  Do  you  say  my  wife  is  suffering  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Madame  w  ill  need  a  physician,"  replied  tlie  negro.  "  I  have 
sent  for  Dr.  Hull." 

"Well,  look  here,  old  gentleman,  I'm  responsible  for  no 
debts  of  youi'  contracting  on  her  account.  I  call  JVIr.  Blake  to 
witness.  If  you  keep  her  here,  it  must  be  at  your  own  expense. 
Not  a  cent  shall  you  ever  have  from  me."" 

"  That  will  not  import,"  replied  Toussamt,  with  the  hauteur 
of  a  prince  of  the  blood. 

Felicitatmg  himself  on  having  got  rid  of  a  doctor's  bill, 
Charlton  took  his  departure. 

"  The  exceedingly  poor  cuss  ! "  muttered  Blake,  tossing  after 
him  the  stump  of  a  cigar. 

"  Let  me  pay  you  for  your  trouble,  Mr.  Blake,"  said  Tous- 
saint. 

"  Not  a  copper.  Marquis  !  I  have  been  here  only  half  an 
hour,  and  in  that  time  have  read  the  newspaper,  smoked  one 
regalia,  quality  prime,  and  pocketed  another.  If  that  is  not 
pay  enough,  you  shall  make  it  up  by  curling  my  haii'  the  next 
time  I  go  to  a  ball." 

"  But  take  the  rest  of  the  cigars." 

"  There,  Marquis,  you  touch  me  on  my  weak  point.  Thank 
you.     Good  by,  Toussaint !  " 

Toussaint  closed  the  door,  and  called  to  his  wife  in  a  whis- 
per, speaking  in  French,  ''  How  goes  it,  Juliette  ?  " 

"  Hist !  She  sleeps.  She  wishes  you  to  put  this  letter  in 
the  post-office  as  soon  as  possible.  If  you  can  get  the  canary- 
bird,  do  it.     I  hope  the  doctor  will  be  here  soon." 

Toussaint  left  at  once  to  mail  the  invalid's  letter  and  get 
possession  of  her  bird. 


A  FUGITIVE  CHATTEL.  19 

CHAPTER    IV. 
A  FUGITIVE  CHATTEL. 

"  The  providential  trust  of  the  South  is  to  perpetuate  the  institution  of  domestic  slavery 
as  now  existing,  with  freest  scope  for  its  natural  development.  We  should  at  once  lift 
ourselves  intelligently  to  the  highest  moral  ground,  and  proclaim  to  all  the  world  that  we 
hold  this  trust  from  God,  and  in  its  occupancy  are  prepared  to  stand  or  fall."  —  Rev.  Dr. 
Palmer  of  New  Orleans,  1861. 

THE  next  morning  Charlton  sat  in  his  office,  calculating 
his  percentage  on  a  transaction  in  which  he  had  just  acted 
as  mediator  between  borrower  and  lender.  The  aspect  of  the 
figures,  judging  from  his  own,  was  cheerful. 

The  office  was  a  gloomy  little  den  up  three  flights  of  stairs. 
All  the  furniture  was  second  hand,  and  the  carpet  was  ragged 
and  dirty.  No  broom  or  dusting-cloth  had  for  months  molested 
the  ancient,  solitary  reign  of  the  Spiders  on  the  ceiling.  A 
pile  of  cheap  slate-colored  boxes  with  labels  stood  against  the 
wall  opposite  the  stove.  An  iron  safe  served  also  as  a  di-essing- 
table  between  the  windows  that  looked  out  on  the  street ;  and 
over  it  hung  a  small  rusty  mirror  in  a  mahogany  frame  with  a 
dirty  hair-brush  attached.  The  library  of  the  little  room  was 
confined  to  a  few  common  books  useful  for  immediate  refer- 
ence ;  a  City  Directory,  a  copy  of  the  Revised  Statutes,  the 
Clerk's  Assistant,  and  a  dozen  other  volumes,  equally  recondite. 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  Charlton  cried  out, 
"  Come  in  !  " 

The  visitor  was  a  negro  whose  face  was  of  that  fuliginous 
hue  that  bespeaks  an  unmixed  African  descent.  He  was  of 
medium  height,  square  built,  with  the  shoulders  and  carriage 
of  an  athlete.  He  seemed  to  be  about  thirty  years  of  age. 
His  features,  though  of  the  genuine  Ethiopian  type,  were  a 
refinement  upon  it  rather  than  an  exaggeration.  The  expression 
was  bright,  hilarious,  intelligent ;  frank  and  open,  you  would 
add,  unless  you  chanced  to  detect  a  certain  quick  oblique 
glance  which  would  flash  upon  you  now  and  then,  and  vanish 
before  you  could  well  realize  what  it  meant.      Across  his  left 


20  PECULIAR. 

cheek  was  an  ugly  scar,  almost  deep  enough  to  be  from  a  cut 
lass  wound. 

"  Good  morning,  Peculiar.     Take  a  chair." 

"  Not  that  name,  if  you  please,  Mr.  Ciiarlton,"  said  the 
negro,  closing  the  door  and  looking  eagerly  around  to  see  if 
there  had  been  a  listener.  "Remember,  you  are  to  call  me 
Jacobs." 

*'  Ah  yes,  I  forgot.  "Well,  Jacobs,  I  am  glad  to  see  you  ; 
but  you  ai-e  a  few  minutes  before  the  time.  It  is  n't  yet 
twelve.  Just  step  into  that  little  closet  and  wait  there  till  1 
call  you." 

The  negro  did  as  he  was  du-ected,  and  Charlton  closed  the 
door  upon  him.  Five  minutes  after,  the  clock  of  Trinity 
struck  twelve,  and  there  was  another  knock  at  the  door. 

Before  we  suffer  it  to  be  answered,  we  must  go  back  and 
describe  an  interview  that  took  place  some  seven  weeks  pre- 
viously, in  the  same  office,  between  Charlton  and  the  negro. 

A  year  before  that  first  interview,  Charlton  had,  in  some 
accidental  way,  been  associated  with  a  well-known  antislav- 
ery  counsel,  hi  a  case  in  which  certain  agents  of  the  law  for 
the  rendition  of  fugitive  slaves  had  been  successfully  foiled. 
Though  Charlton's  services  had  been  unessential  and  purely 
mercenary,  he  had  shared  in  the  victor's  fame ;  and  the  grate- 
ful colored  men  who  employed  him  carried  off  the  illusion  that 
he  was  a  powerful  friend  of  the  slave.  And  so  when  Mr.  Pe- 
cuUar,  alias  iSIr.  Jacobs,  found  himself  in  Kew  York,  a  fugitive 
from  bondage,  he  was  recommended,  if  he  had  any  little  mis- 
givings as  to  his  inununity  from  persecution  and  seizure,  to 
apply  to  Mr.  Charlton  as  to  a  fountain  of  legal  profundity  and 
philanthi'opic  expansiveness.  Greater  men  than  our  colored 
brethi-en  have  jumped  to  conclusions  equally  far  from  the  truth 
in  regard  not  only  to  lawyers,  but  military  generals. 

Charlton's  primary  investigations,  in  his  first  interview  with 
Peek,  had  reference  to  the  amomit  of  funds  that  the  negro 
could  raise  through  his  own  credit  and  that  of  his  friends. 
This  amount  the  lawyer  found  to  be  small ;  and  he  was  about 
to  express  his  dissatisfaction  in  emphatic  terms,  when  a  new 
consideration  withheld  him.  Affecting  that  ruling  passion  of 
miiversal  benevolence  which  the  fond  imagination  of  his  colored 


A  FUGITIVE  CHATTEL.  21 

client  had  attributed  to  him,  he  pondered  a  moment,  then 
spoke  as  follows: 

"  You  tell  me,  Jacobs,  you  are  in  the  delicate  position  of  a 
fugitive  slave.  I  love  the  slave.  Am  I  not  a  friend  and  a 
brother,  and  all  that?  But  if  you  expect  me  to  serve  you, 
you  must  be  entirely  frank,  —  disguise  nothing,  —  disclose  to 
me  your  real  liistory,  name,  and  situation,  —  make  a  clean  breast 
of  it,  in  short." 

"  That  I  will  do,  sir.  I  know,  if  I  trust  a  la\\^er  at  all,  I 
ought  to  trust  him  wholly." 

There  was  nothing  in  the  negro's  language  to  indicate  the 
traditional  slave  of  the  stage  and  the  novel,  who  always  says 
"Massa,"  and  speaks  a  gibberish  indicated  to  the  eye  by  a 
cheap  misspelling  of  words.  A  listener  who  had  not  seen 
him  would  have  supposed  it  was  an  educated  white  gentleman 
who  was  speaking ;  for  even  in  the  tone  of  his  voice  there  was 
an  absence  of  the  African  peculiarity. 

"  My  friends  tell  me  I  may  trust  you,  sir,"  said  Jacobs,  ad- 
vancmg  and  looking  Charlton  square  in  the  face.  Charlton 
must  have  blenched  for  an  instant,  for  the  negro,  as  a  slight  but 
significant  compression  of  the  lip  seemed  to  portend,  drew  back 
from  confidence.  "  Can  I  trust  you  ?  "  he  continued,  as  if  he 
were  putting  the  question  as  much  to  himself  as  to  Charlton. 
There  was  a  pause. 

Charlton  took  from  his  drawer  a  letter,  which  he  handed  to 
the  negro,  Avith  the  remark,  "  You  know  how  to  read,  I  sup- 
pose." 

Without  replying,  Peek  took  the  letter  and  glanced  over  it, 
—  a  letter  of  thanks  from  a  committee  of  colored  citizens  in 
return  for  Charlton's  services  in  the  case  already  alluded  to. 
Peek  was  reassured  by  this  document.  He  returned  it,  and 
said,  "  I  will  trust  you,  Mr.  Charlton." 

"  Take  a  seat  then,  Jacobs,  and  I  will  make  such  notes  of 
your  story  as  I  may  think  advisable." 

Peek  did  as  he  was  invited ;  but  Charlton  seemed  interested 
mainly  in  dates  and  names.  A  more  faithful  reporter  would 
have  presented  the  memorabilia  of  the  narrative  somewhat  in 
this  form : 

"Was   born  on    Herbert's  plantation  in  Marshall   County, 


22  PECULIAR. 

IVIississippi.  ^Mother  a  house-slave.  "When  he  was  four  years 
old  she  was  sold  and  taken  to  Louisiana.  His  real  name  not 
Jacobs.  Tliat  name  he  took  recently  in  New  York.  The 
name  he  was  christened  by  was  Peculiar  Institution.  It 
was  given  to  him  by  one  Ewell,  a  drunken  overseer,  and  was 
soon  shortened  to  Peek,  which  name  has  always  stuck  to  him. 
Was  brought  up  a  body  servant  till  his  fourteenth  year.  Soon 
found  that  the  way  for  a  slave  to  get  along  was  to  lie,  but  to 
lie  so  as  not  to  be  found  out.  Grew  to  be  so  expert  a  liar,  that 
among  his  fellows  he  was  called  the  lawyer.  No  offence  to 
you,  Mr.  Charlton. 

"As  soon  as  he  could  carry  a  j^late,  was  made  to  wait  at 
table.  Used  to  hear  the  gentlemen  and  ladies  talk  at  meals. 
Could  speak  their  big  words  before  he  knew  their  meaning. 
Kept  his  ears  and  eyes  well  open.  An  old  Spanish  negro, 
named  Alva,  taught  him  by  stealth  to  read  and  write.  When 
the  young  ladies  took  their  lessons  in  music,  this  child  stood  by 
and  learnt  as  much  as  they  did,  if  not  more.  Learnt  to  play 
so  well  on  the  piano  that  he  was  often  called  on  to  show  off 
before  visitors. 

''  Was  whipped  twice,  and  then  not  badly,  at  Herbert's  :  once 
for  stealing  some  fruit,  once  for  trying  to  teach  a  slave  to  read. 
Family  very  pious.  Old  Herbert  used  to  read  prayers  every 
morning.  But  he  did  n't  mind  making  a  woman  give  up  one 
husband  and  take  another.  Did  n't  mind  separating  mother 
and  child.  Did  n't  mind  shooting  a  slave  for  disobedience. 
Saw  him  do  it  once.  Herbert  had  told  Big  Sam  not  to  go  with 
a  certain  metif  girl;  for  Herbert  was  as  particular  about 
matching  his  niggers  as  about  his  horses  and  sheep.  A  jealous 
negro  betrayed  Sam.  Old  Herbert  found  Sam  in  the  metif 
girl's  hut,  and  shot  him  dead,  without  giving  him  a  chance  to 
beg  for  mercy.*  Well,  Sam  was  only  a  nigger  ;  and  did  n't  Mr. 
Herbert  have  family  prayers,  and  go  to  church  twice  every 
Sunday  ?    Who  should  save  his  soul  alive,  if  not  Mr.  Herbert  ? 

"  In  spite  of  prayers,  however,  things  did  n't  go  right  on  the 

*  A  fact.  The  incident,  which  occurred  literally  as  related  (on  Bob  My- 
ers's plantation  in  Alabama),  was  communicated  to  the  writer  by  an  eye- 
witness, a  respectable  citizen  of  Boston,  once  resident  at  the  South.  The 
murder,  of  course,  passed  not  only  unpunished,  but  unnoticed. 


A   FUGITIVE   CHATTEL.  23 

plantation.  The  estate  was  heavily  mortgaged.  Finally  the 
creditors  took  it,  and  the  family  was  broken  up.  Peculiar  wa» 
sold  to  one  Harkman,  a  speculator,  who  let  him  out  as  an 
apprentice  in  New  Orleans,  in  Collins's  machine-shop  for  the 
repair  of  steam-engines.  But  Collins  failed,  and  then  Peek 
became  a  waiter  in  the  St.  Charles  Hotel.  Here  he  stayed  six 
years.  Cut  his  eye-teeth  during  that  time.  Used  to  talk  freely 
with  Northern  visitors  about  slavery.  Studied  the  big  map  of 
the  United  States  that  hung  in  the  reading-room.  Learnt  all 
about  the  hotels,  North  and  South.  Stretched  his  ears  wide 
whenever  politics  were  discussed. 

"  Having  waited  on  the  principal  actors  and  singers  of  the 
day  at  the  St.  Charles,  he  had  a  free  pass  to  the  theatres.  Used 
often  to  go  behind  the  scenes.  Waited  on  Blitz,  Anderson,  and 
other  jugglers.  Saw  Anderson  show  up  the  humbug,  as  he 
called  it,  of  spiritual  manifestations.  Went  to  church  now  and 
then.  Heard  some  bad  preachers,  and  some  good.  Heard  Mr. 
Clapp  preach.  Heard  Mr.  Palmer  preach.  After  hearing  the 
latter  on  the  duties  of  slaves,  tried  to  run  away.  Was  caught 
and  taken  to  a  new  patent  whipijing-machine,  recently  intro- 
duced by  a  Yankee.  Here  was  left  for  a  whipping.  Bought 
off  the  Yankee  with  five  dollars,  and  taught  him  how  to  stain 
my  back  so  as  to  imitate  the  marks  of  the  lash.  Thus  no  dis- 
credit was  brought  on  the  machine.  A  week  after  was  sold  to 
a  Red  River  planter,  Mr.  Carberry  Ratclif^ 

"  Can  never  speak  of  this  man  calmly.  He  had  a  slave,  a 
woman  white  as  you  are,  sir,  that  he  beat,  and  then  tried  to 
make  me  take  and  treat  as  my  wife.  When  he  found  I  had 
cheated  him,  he  just  had  me  tied  up  and  whipped  till  thi-ee 
strong  men  were  tired  out  with  the  work.  It 's  a  wonder  how 
I  survived.  My  whole  back  is^  seamed  deep  with  the  scars. 
This  scar  over  my  cheek  is  from  a  blow  he  himself  gave  me 
that  day  with  a  strip  of  raw  hide.  He  sold  me  to  Mr.  Barn- 
well in  Texas  as  soon  as  I  could  walk,  which  was  n't  for  some 
weeks.  I  left,  resolving  to  come  back  and  kill  Ratcliff.  I 
meant  to  do  this  so  earnestly,  that  the  hope  of  it  almost  re- 
stored me.  Revenge  was  my  one  thought,  day  and  night.  I 
felt  that  I  could  not  be  at  ease  till  that  man  Ratcliff  had  paid 
for  his  barbarity.  Even  now  I  sometimes  wake  full  of  wrath 
from  my  dreams,  imagining  I  have  him  at  my  mercy. 


24  PECULIAR. 

"  J  went  to  Texas  with  a  bad  reputation.  Was  put  among 
the  naughty  darkies,  and  sent  to  the  cotton-field.  Braxton,  tlie 
overseer,  had  been  a  terrible  fellow  in  his  day,  but  I  hapj)ened 
to  be  brought  to  him  at  the  time  he  was  beginning  to  get  scared 
about  his  soul.  Soon  had  things  my  own  way.  Braxton  made 
me  a  sort  of  sub-overseer ;  and  I  got  more  work  out  of  tlie 
field-hands  by  kindness  than  Braxton  had  ever  got  by  the 
lash. 

''  One  day  I  discovered  on  a  neighboring  plantation  an  old 
woman  who  proved  to  be  my  mother.  She  had  been  brought 
here  from  Louisiana.  She  was  on  the  point  of  dying.  She 
knew  me,  fii*st  from  hearing  my  name,  and  then  from  a  cross 
she  had  pricked  in  India  ink  on  my  breast.  She  had  n't  seen 
me  for  sixteen  years.  Had  been  having  a  hard  time  of  it. 
Her  hut  was  close  by  a  slough,  a  real  fever-hole,  and  she  had 
been  sick  most  of  the  time  the  last  three  yeai-s. 

"  The  old  woman  flashed  up  bright  on  finding  me :  gave  me 
a  long  talk ;  told  me  little  stories  of  when  I  was  a  child ;  told 
me  how  my  father  had  been  sold  to  an  Alabama  man,  and  shot 
dead  for  trying  to  break  away  from  a  whipping-post.  All  at 
once  she  said  she  saw  angels,  drew  me  down  to  her,  and  dropped 
away  quiet  as  a  lamb,  so  that,  though  my  forehead  lay  on  her 
breast,  I  did  n't  know  when  she  died. 

"  After  this  loss,  I  was  pretty  serious.  Was  n't  badly  treated. 
My  master,  an  educated  gentleman,  was  absent  in  New  Orleans 
most  of  the  time.  Ovei-seer  Braxton,  after  the  big  scare  he 
got  about  his  soul,  grew  to  be  humane,  and  left  almost  every- 
thing to  me.  But  I  felt  sick  of  lite,  and  wanted  to  die,  though 
not  before  I  had  killed  Ratcliif.  One  day  I  heard  that  Corinna, 
a  quadi'oon  girl,  a  slave  on  the  plantation,  had  fallen  into  a 
strange  state,  during  which  she  preached  as  no  minister  had 
ever  preached  before.  I  had  known  her  as  a  very  ordinary  and 
rather  stupid  gM.  Went  to  see  her  in  one  of  her  trances. 
Found  that  report  had  fallen  short  of  the  real  case.  Was 
astonished  at  what  I  saw  and  heard.  Saw  what  no  white  man 
would  believe,  and  so  felt  I  was  wiser  on  one  point  than  all  the 
white  men.  My  interviews  with  Corinna  soon  made  me  forget 
about  Ratcliif;  and  when  she  died,  six  weeks  after  my  first 
visit,  felt  my  mind  full  of  things  it  would  take  me  a  lifetime 
to  think  out  and  settle. 


A    FUGITIVE   CHATTEL.  26 

"  After  Coriniia's  death,  I  stayed  some  months  on  the  plan- 
tation, though  I  had  a  chance  to  leave.  Stayed  because  I  had 
an  easy  time  and  because  I  found  I  could  be  of  use  to  the 
slaves  ;  and  further,  because  I  had  resolved,  if  ever  I  got  free, 
it  should  be  by  freeing  myself.  A  white  man,  a  Mr.  Vance! 
whose  life  I  had  saved,  wanted  to  buy  and  free  me.  I  made 
him  spend  his  money  so  it  would  show  for  more  than  just  the 
freeing  of  one  man.  But  Braxton,  the  overseer,  who  was  let- 
ting me  have  pretty  much  my  own  way,  at  last  died;  and 
Hawks,  his  successor,  was  of  opinion  that  the  way  to  get  work 
out  of  niggers  was  to  treat  them  Hke  dogs;  and  so,  one  pleasant 
moonlight  night,  I  made  tracks  for  Galveston.  Here,  by 
means  of  false  papers,  I  managed  to  get  passage  to  New  Or- 
leans, and  there  hid  myself  on  board  a  Yankee  schooner  bound 
for  New  London,  Connecticut.  When  she  was  ten  days  out, 
I  made  my  appearance  on  deck,  much  to  the  surprise  of  the 
crew.  Fifteen  days  afterwards  we  arrived  in  the  harbor  of 
New  London. 

'*01d  Skinner,  the  captain,  had  been  playing  possum  with 
me  all  the  voyage,  —  keeping  dark,  and  pretending  to  be  my 
friend,  meaning  all  the  while  to  have  me  arrested  in  port.  No 
sooner  had  he  dropped  anchor  than  he  sent  on  shore  for  the 
officers.  But  the  mate  tipped  me  the  wink.  '  Darkey,'  said 
he,  '  do  you  see  that  little  green  fishing-boat  yonder  ?  Well, 
that  belongs  to  old  Payson,  an  all-fired  aboHtionist  and  friend 
of  the  nigger.  Our  Captain  and  crew  are  aU  under  hatches, 
and  now  if  you  don't  want  to  be  a  lost  nigger,  jest  you  drop 
down  quietly  astern,  swim  off  to  Payson,  and  tell  him  who  you 
are,  and  that  the  slave-catchers  are  after  you.  If  old  Payson 
don't  put  you  thi'ough  after  that,  it  will  be  because  it  isn't  old 
Payson.' 

"  I  did  as  the  mate  told  me.  Reached  the  fishing-boat.  Found 
old  Payson,  a  gnai-led,  tough,  withered  old  sea-dog,  who  com- 
prehended at  once  what  was  in  the  wind,  and  cried,  '  Ha  !  ha ! ' 
like  the  war-horse  that  snuffs  the  battle.  Just  as  I  got  into 
the  boat,  Captain  Skinner  came  up  on  the  schooner's  deck,  and 
saw  what  had  taken  place.  The  schooner's  small  boat  had 
been  sent  ashore  for  the  officers  whose  business  it  was  to  carry 
out  the  Fugitive-Slave  Law.   What  could  Skinner  do  ?   Visions 


26  PKCULIAR. 

of  honoi-s  and  testimonials  and  rewards  and  dinners  from  Tex- 
an slaveholders,  because  of  his  loyalty  to  the  institution  in 
returning  a  runaway  nigger,  suddenly  vanished.  He  paced 
the  deck  in  a  rage.  To  add  to  his  fury,  old  Payson,  while  I 
stood  at  the  bows,  dripping  and  grinning,  came  sailing  up 
before  a  stiflf  breeze,  and  passed  within  easy  speaking  distance, 
Payson  pouiing  in  such  a  volley  of  words  that  Skinner  was 
dumbfounded.  'I'll  make  New  London  too  hot  for  you,  you 
blasted  old  skinflint ! '  cried  Payson.  '  You  'd  sell  your  o^mi 
sister  just  as  soon  as  you  'd  sell  this  nigger,  you  w^ould  !  Let 
me  catch  you  ashore,  and  I  '11  give  you  the  blastedest  thrashing 
you  ever  got  yet,  you  infernal  doughface,  you !  Go  and  lick 
the  boots  of  slaveholders.     It 's  jest  what  you  was  bom  for.' 

"  And  the  little  sail-boat  passed  on  out  of  hearing.  Payson 
got  in  the  track  of  one  of  the  spacious  steamboats  that  ply 
between  the  cities  of  Long  Island  Sound  and  New  York,  and 
managed  to  throw  a  line,  so  as  to  be  drawn  up  to  the  side. 
We  then  got  on  board.  In  six  hours,  we  were  in  New 
York.  Payson  put  me  in  the  proper  hands,  bade  me  good  by, 
returned  to  his  sail-boat,  and  made  the  best  speed  he  could 
back  to  New  London,  fired  with  hopes  of  pitching  into  that 
*  meanest  of  all  mean  skippei-s,  old  Skinner.' 

"  This  was  three  years  ago.  The  despatch  agents  of  the 
underground  railroad  hurried  me  off  to  Canada.  As  soon  as  I 
judged  it  safe.  I  returned  to  New  York.  Here  I  got  a  good 
situation  as  head-waiter  at  Bunker's.  Am  married.  Have  a 
boy,  named  Sterling,  a  year  old.  Am  very  happy  w^th  my 
wife  and  child  and  my  hired  piano.  But  now  and  then  I  and 
my  wife  have  an  alarm  lest  I  shall  be  seized  and  cai-ried  back 
to  slavery." 

Here  IVIi'.  Institution  finished  his  story,  wliich  we  have  con- 
densed, generally  using,  however,  his  own  words.  Charlton 
did  not  subject  him  to  much  cross-questioning.  He  asked,  Jirst^ 
what  was  the  name  of  the  schooner  in  which  Peek  had  escaped 
from  Texas.  It  was  the  Albatross.  Charlton  made  a  note. 
Second,  did  Mr.  Barnwell,  Peek's  late  master,  have  an  agent 
in  New  Orleans  ?  Yes  ;  Peek  had  often  seen  the  name  on 
packages  :  P.  Herman  &  Co.  And,  third,  did  Peek  marry  his 
wife  in  Canada  ?    Yes.    Then  she,  too,  is  a  fugitive  slave,  eh  ? 


A   FUGITIVE   CHATTEL.  27 

Peek  seemed  reluctant  to  answer  this  question,  and  flashed 
a  quick,  distrustful  glance  on  Charlton.  The  latter  assumed 
an  air  of  indifference,  and  said,  "  Perhaps  you  had  better  not 
answer  that  question  ;  it  is  immaterial." 

Again  Peek's  mind  was  relieved. 

"That  is  enough  for  the  present,  Mr.  Jacobs,"  continued 
Charlton.  "  If  I  have  occasion  to  see  you,  I  can  always  find 
you  at  Bunker's,  I  suppose." 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Charlton.  Inquire  for  John  Jacobs.  Keep  a 
bright  lookout  for  me,  and  you  sha'u't  be  the  loser.  Will  five 
dollars  pay  you  ?  " 

Charlton  wavered  between  the  temptation  to  clutch  more  at 
the  moment,  and  the  prospect  of  making  his  new  client  avail- 
able in  other  ways.  At  length  taking  the  money  he  replied, 
"  I  will  make  it  do  for  the  present.     Good  morning." 


28  PECULIAK. 

CHAPTER    V. 

A  RETROSPECT. 

"  Any  slave  refusing  obedience  to  any  command  may  be  flogged  till  he  submits  or  dies. 
Not  by  occasional  abuses  alone,  but  by  the  universal  law  of  the  Southern  Confederacy, 
the  existing  system  of  slavery  violates  all  tlie  moral  laws  of  Christianity."  —  Rev.  New- 
man Hall. 

BEFORE  removing  Peculiar  from  the  closet  which  at 
Charlton's  bidding  he  has  entered,  we  must  go  back  to 
the  time  when  he  was  a  slave,  and  amplify  and  illustrate  cer- 
tain parts  of  his  abridged  narrative.  His  life,  up  to  the  period 
when  he  comes  upon  our  little  stage,  divides  itself  into  three 
eras,  all  marked  by  their  separate  moral  experiences.  In  the 
Jirst,  he  felt  the  slave's  crowning  curse,  —  the  absence  of  that 
sense  of  personal  responsibility  which  freedom  alone  can  give ; 
and  he  fell  into  the  demoralization  which  is  the  inherent  con- 
sequence of  the  slave's  condition.  In  the  second  era,  he  en- 
countered his  mother,  and  then  the  frozen  fountain  of  his  affec- 
tions was  unsealed  and  melted.  In  the  third,  he  met  Corinna, 
and  for  the  first  time  looked  on  life  with  the  eyes  of  belief 

It  will  seem  idle  to  many  advanced  minds  in  this  nineteenth 
century  to  use  words  to  show  the  wrong  of  slavery.  AYhy  not 
as  well  spend  breath  in  denouncing  burglary  or  murder  ?  But 
slavery  is  still  a  power  in  the  world.  We  are  daily  told  it  is 
the  proper  status  for  the  colored  man  in  this  country ;  that  he 
ought  to  covet  slavery  as  much  as  a  white  man  ought  to  covet 
freedom.  Besides,  since  Peek  has  confessed  himself  at  one 
time  of  his  life  a  liar,  we  must  show  why  he  ought  logically  to 
have  been  one. 

To  blame  a  slave  for  lying  and  stealing,  is  about  as  fair  as  it 
would  be  to  blame  a  man  for  using  strategy  in  escaping  from 
an  assassin.  For  the  slaveholder,  if  not  the  assassin  of  the 
slave's  life,  is  the  assa&sin  of  his  liberty,  his  manhood,  his  moral 
dignity. 

Mr.  Pugh  of  Ohio,  Vallandigham's  associate  on  the  guber- 


A  RETROSPECT.  29 

natorial  ticket  for  1863,  presents  his  thesis  thus:  "When  the 
slaves  are  fit  for  freedom,  they  will  be  free." 

The  profundity  of  this  oracular  proposition  is  only  equalled 
in  the  remark  of  the  careful  grandmother,  who  declared  she 
would  never  let  a  boy  go  into  the  water  till  he  knew  how  to 
swim. 

"  When  the  slaves  are  fit ! "  As  if  the  road  were  clear  for 
them  to  achieve  their  fitness  !  Why,  the  slave  is  not  only 
robbed  of  his  labor,  but  of  his  very  chances  as  a  thinking 
being.  Yes,  with  a  charming  consistency,  the  slavery  barons, 
the  Hammonds  .and  the  Davises,  while  they  tell  us  the  negro 
is  unfitted  for  mental  cultivation,  institute  the  severest  penal 
laws  against  all  attempts  to  teach  the  slave  to  read ! 

The  first  natural  instinct  of  the  slave,  black  or  white,  towards 
his  master  is,  to  cheat  and  bafile  that  armed  embodiment  of 
wrong,  who  stands  to  him  in  the  relation  of  a  thief  and  a  ty- 
rant. Thus,  from  his  earliest  years,  lying  and  fraud  become 
legitimate  and  praiseworthy  in  the  slave's  eyes  ;  for  slavery, 
except  under  rare  conditions,  crushes  out  the  moral  life  in  the 
victim. 

Any  conscience  he  may  have,  being  subordinate  to  the  con- 
science of  his  master,  is  kept  stunted  or  perverted.  The  slave 
may  wish  to  be  true  to  his  wife ;  but  his  master  may  compel 
him  to  repudiate  her  and  take  another.  He  may  object  to 
being  the  agent  of  an  injustice ;  but  the  snap  of  the  whip  or 
the  revolver  may  be  the  reply  to  any  conscientious  scruples  he 
may  offer  against  obedience. 

In  the  first  stage  of  his  slave-life.  Peculiar  probably  gave 
little  thought  to  the  moral  bearings  of  his  lot ;  although  old 
Alva,  his  instructor,  who  was  something  of  a  casuist,  had 
offered  him  not  a  few  hard  nuts  to  crack  in  the  way  of  knotty 
questions.  But  Peculiar  did  precisely  what  you  or  I  would 
have  done  under  similar  circumstances :  he  taxed  his  ingenu- 
ity to  find  how  he  could  most  safely  shirk  the  tasks  that  were 
put  upon  him.  Knowing  that  his  taskmasters  had  no  right  to 
his  labor,  that  they  were,  in  fact,  robbing  him  of  what  was  his 
own,  he  did  what  he  could  to  fool  and  circumvent  them.  Thus 
he  grew  to  be,  by  a  necessity  of  his  condition,  the  most  con- 
summate of  hypocrites  and  the  most  intrepid  and  successful  of 


30  PECULIAR. 

liars.  At  eighteen  he  was  a  match  for  Talleyrand  in  using 
speech  to  conceal  his  thoughts. 

He  saw  that,  if  slaves  were  well  treated,  it  was  because  the 
prudent  master  believed  that  good  treatment  would  pay.  Hu- 
manity was  gauged  by  considerations  of  cotton.  Thus  the  very 
kindnesses  of  a  master  hail  tlie  taint  of  an  intense  selfishness ; 
and  Peculiar,  while  readily  availing  himself  of  all  indulgences, 
cori'ectly  appreciated  the  spirit  in  which  they  were  granted. 

The  devotional  element  seems  to  be  especially  active  in  the 
negi'o ;  but  it  has  little  chance  for  rational  development,  dwarfed 
and  kept  from  the  light  as  the  intellect  is.  The  uneducated  slave, 
like  the  Italian  brigand,  —  indeed,  like  many  worthy  people  who 
go  to  church,  —  thinks  it  an  impertinence  to  mix  up  morality 
with  religion.  He  agrees  fully  with  the  distinguished  American 
divine,  who  the  other  Sunday  began  his  sermon  with  these 
words,  "  Brethren,  I  am  not  here  to  teach  you  morality,  but  to 
save  your  souls."  As  if  a  saving  faith  could  exist  allied  to  a 
corrupt  morality! 

Peculiar  could  not  come  in  contact  with  a  sham,  however 
solemn  and  pretentious,  without  applying  to  it  the  puncture 
of  his  skeptical  analysis.  He  saw  his  master,  Herbert,  go  to 
church  on  a  Sunday  and  kneel  in  prayer,  and  on  a  Monday 
shoot  down  Big  Sam  for  attaching  himself  to  the  wrong  woman. 
He  saw  the  Rev.  Mr.  Bloom  take  the  murderer  by  the  hand,  as 
if  nothing  had  happened  more  tragical  than  the  shooting  of  a 
raccoon. 

And  then  Peculiar  cogitated,  wondering  what  religion  could 
be,  if  its  professors  made  such  slight  account  of  robbery  and 
murder.  Was  it  the  observance  of  certain  forms  for  the  pro- 
pitiation of  an  arbitrary,  capricious,  and  unamiable  Power,  who 
smiled  on  injustice  and  barbaiity  ?  The  more  he  thought  of  it, 
the  more  inexplicable  grew  the  puzzle.  Herbert  evidently 
regarded  himself  as  one  of  the  elect;  and  Mr.  Bloom  en- 
com-aged  liim  in  his  security.  If  heaven  was  to  be  won  by 
such  kind  of  service  as  theirs,  Peculiar  concluded  that  he 
would  prefer  taking  his  chances  in  hell ;  and  so  he  became  a 
scoffer. 

His  residence  in  Xew  Orleans,  in  enlarging  the  sphere  of  his 
experiences,  did  not  bring  him  the  light  that  could  quicken  the 


A  RETROSPECT.  31 

devotional  part  of  his  nature.  Dwelling  most  of  the  time  in 
a  hotel  which  frequently  contained  thi-ee  or  four  hundred  in- 
mates, he  was  thrown  among  white  men  of  all  grades,  intellect- 
ual and  moral.  He  instinctively  felt  his  superiority  both  ways 
to  not  a  few  of  these.  It  was  therefore  a  swindling  lie  to  say 
that  the  blacks  were  bom  to  be  the  thrall  of  the  whites,  that 
slavery  was  the  proper  status  of  the  black  in  this  or  any  coun- 
try. If  it  were  true  that  stupid  blacks  ought  to  be  slaves, 
so  must  it  be  true  of  the  same  order  of  whites. 

He  heard  preachers  stand  up  in  their  pulpits,  and,  like  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Palmer,  blaspheme  God  by  calling  slavery  a  Divine 
institution.  "  Would  it  have  been  tolerated  so  long,  if  it  were 
not  ?  "  they  asked,  with  the  confidence  of  a  conjurer  when  he 
means  to  hocus  you.  To  which  Peek  might  have  answered, 
"  Would  theft  and  murder  have  been  tolerated  so  long,  if  they 
were  not  equally  Divine  ?  "  The  Northern  clergymen  he  en- 
countered held  usually  South-side  views  of  the  subject,  and 
so  his  prejudices  against  the  cloth  grew  to  be  somewhat  too 
sweeping  and  indisciiminate.  Judged  of  by  its  relations  to 
slavery,  religion  seemed  to  him  an  audacious  system  of  imposi- 
tions, raised  to  fortify  a  lie  and  a  wrong  by  claiming  a  Divine 
sanction  for  merely  human  creeds  and  inventions. 

This  persuasion  was  deepened  when  he  found  there  were 
intelligent  white  men  utterly  incredulous  as  to  a  future  state, 
and  that  the  people  who  went  to  church  were  many  of  them 
practically,  and  many  of  them  speculatively,  infidels.  The  re- 
maining fraction  might  be,  for  all  he  knew,  not  only  devout, 
but  good  and  just.  Indeed,  he  had  met  some  such,  but  they 
could  be  almost  counted  on  his  ten  fingers. 

One  day  at  the  St.  Charles  he  overheard  a  discussion  be- 
tween Mr.  James  Sterling,  an  English  traveller,  and  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Manners  of  Virginia.  Slaves  are  good  listeners  ;  and 
Peculiar  had  sharpened  his  sense  of  hearing  by  the  frequent 
exercise  of  it  under  difficulties.  He  was  an  amateur  in  key- 
holes. On  this  occasion  he  had  only  to  open  a  ventilating 
window  at  the  top  of  a  partition,  and  all  that  the  disputants 
might  say  would  be  for  his  benefit. 

"Will  you  deny,  sir,"  asked  the  reverend  Doctor,  "that 
slavery  has  the  sanction  of  Scripture?" 


32  PECULIAR. 

"  I  exclude  that  inquiry  as  impertinent  at  present,"  said 
Sterling.  "If  Scripture  authorized  murder,  then  it  would  not 
be  murder  that  would  be  right,  but  Scripture  that  would  be 
wrong.  And  so  in  regard  to  slavery.  On  that  particular 
point  Sciipture  must  not  be  admitted  as  author! tiUive.  It 
cannot  override  the  enlightened  human  conscience.  It  cannot 
render  null  the  deductions  of  science  and  of  rea.^on  on  a  ques- 
tion that  manifestly  comes  witliin  their  sphere.  " 

"  Ah  !  if  you  reject  Scripture,  then  I  have  nothing  more  to 
say,"  retorted  the  Doctor.  But,  after  a  pause,  he  added, 
'"Have  you  not  generally  found  the  slaves  well  treated  and 
contented  ?  " 

"  A  system  under  which  they  are  well  treated  and  made  con- 
tent/' replied  Sterling,  "  is  really  the  most  to  be  deplored  and 
condemned.  K  slavei-y  could  so  brutaUze  men's  minds  as  to 
make  them  hug  their  chains  and  glor}""  in  degradation,  it  would 
be,  in  my  eyes,  doubly  cm-sed.  But  it  is  not  so;  the  slaves 
are  not  happy,  and  I  thank  God  for  it.  There  is  manhood 
enough  left  in  them  to  make  them  at  least  unhappy."* 

"  You  assume  the  equality  of  the  races, "  interposed  the 
Doctor. 

"  It  is  unnecessary  for  my  argument  to  make  any  such  as- 
sumption," said  Sterling.  "  I  have  found  that  many  black  men 
are  superior  to  many  white  men,  and  some  of  those  white  men 
slaveholders.  I  do  not  assume  this.  I  know  it.  I  have  seen 
it.  But  even  if  the  black  men  were  inferior,  I  hold,  that  man, 
as  man,  is  an  end  unto  himself,  and  that  to  use  him  as  a  brute 
means  to  the  ends  of  other  men  is  to  outrage  the  laws  of  God. 
I  take  my  stand  far  above  the  question  of  happiness  or  un- 
happiness.  Have  you  noticed  the  young  black  man,  called 
Peek,  who  waits  behind  my  chair  at  table  ?  " 

''  Yes,  a  bright-looking  lad.  He  anticipates  your  wants  well. 
You  have  feed  him,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  I  have  given  him  nothing.  I  have  put  a  few  questions  to 
him,  that  is  all ;  and  what  I  have  to  say  is,  that  he  is  supe- 
rior in  respect  to  brains  to  nine  tenths  of  the  wliite  youth  who 
suck  juleps  in  your  bai"-rooms  or  kill  time  at  your  billiai'd- 
tables." 

*  See  James  Sterling's  "  Letters  from  the  Slave  States." 


A  RETROSPECT.  33 

"  As  soon  as  the  Abolitionists  will  stop  their  infatuated  clam- 
or," replied  the  Doctor,  "the  condition  of  the  slave  will  be 
gradually  improved,  and  we  shall  give  more  and  more  care  to 
liis  religious  education." 

"  So  long  as  the  negro  is  ruled  by  force,"  returned  Mr.  Ster- 
ling, "  no  forty-pai*son  power  of  preaching  can  elevate  his  char- 
acter. It  is  a  savage  mockery  to  prate  of  duty  to  one  in  whom 
we  have  emasculated  all  power  of  will.  We  cannot  make  a 
moral  intelligence  of  a  being  we  use  as  a  mere  muscular  force." 

"  All  that  the  South  wants,"  exclaimed  the  Doctor,  "  is  to  be 
let  alone  in  the  matter  of  slavery.  If  there  are  any  allevia- 
tions in  the  system  which  can  be  safely  applied,  be  sure  they 
will  not  be  lacking  as  soon  as  we  are  let  alone  by  the  fanatics 
of  the  North.  Leave  the  solution  of  the  problem  to  the  intel- 
ligence and  humanity  of  the  South." 

"  Not  while  new  cotton-lands  pay  so  well !  Be  sure,  rever- 
end sir,  if  the  South  cannot  quickly  find  a  solution  of  this  slave 
problem,  God  will  find  one  for  them,  and  that,  trust  me,  will  be 
a  violent  one.  American  civilization  and  American  slavery 
can  no  longer  exist  together.  One  or  the  other  must  be  de- 
stroyed. For  my  part,  I  can't  believe  it  to  be  the  Divine 
purpose  that  a  remnant  of  barbarism  shall  overthrow  the  civ- 
ilization of  a   new  world.     Slavery  must  succumb."  * 

"  I  recommend  you,  ]Mr.  Sterling,  not  to  raise  your  voice 
quite  so  high  when  you  touch  upon  these  dangerous  topics  here 
at  the  South.     I  will  bid  you  good  evening,  sir." 

*  This  last  paragraph  embodies  the  actual  words  of  Mr.  Sterling,  published 
in  1856. 


2* 


34  PECULIAR. 

CPIAPTER    YI. 

PIX-HOLES   IN   THE   CURTAIN. 

"  The  reader  will  here  be  led  into  the  great,  ill-famed  land  of  the  marvellous." 

Ennemoser. 

THE  convei-sation  between  the  English  traveller  and  tlie 
Virginia  Doctor  of  Divinity  was  brought  to  a  close,  and 
Peek  jumped  down  from  the  table  on  which  he  had  been  lis- 
tening, refreshed  and  inspired  by  the  eloquent  words  he  had 
taken  in. 

A  week  afterwards  he  made  a  second  attempt  to  escape  from 
bondage.  He- was  caught  and  sold  to  Mr.  Carberry  Ratcliff, 
who  had  an  estate  on  the  Eed  River.  Here,  failing  in  obedi- 
ence to  an  atrocious  order,  he  received  a  punishment,  the  scars 
of  which  always  remained  to  show  the  degree  of  its  barbarity. 
He  was  soon  after  sent  to  Texas,  where  he  became  the  slave 
of  Mr.  Barnwell. 

Here  he  was  at  first  put  to  the  roughest  work  in  the  cotton- 
field.  It  tasked  all  his  inojenuitv  to  slight  or  dodge  it.  Luck- 
ily  for  him,  about  the  time  of  his  arrival  he  found  an  opportu- 
nity to  make  profitable  use  of  the  ecclesiastical  knowledge  he 
had  derived  from  the  Rev.  Messrs.  Bloom  and  Palmer. 

Braxton,  the  overseer,  had  been  ft-ightened  into  a  concern 
for  his  soul.  He  had  a  heart-complaint  which  the  doctor  told 
him  might  carry  him  off  any  day  in  a  flash.  A  travelling 
preacher  completed  the  work  of  terror  by  satisfying  him  he 
was  in  a  fair  way  of  being  damned.  The  prospect  did  not 
seem  cheerful  to  Braxton.  He  had  found  exhilaration  and 
comfort  in  whipping  intractable  niggers.  The  amusement 
now  began  to  pall.  Besides,  the  doctor  had  told  him  to  shun 
excitement. 

In  this  state  of  things,  enter  ^Ir.  PecuUar  Institution.  That 
gentleman  soon  learnt  what  was  the  matter  ;  and  he  contrived 
that  the  overseer,  seemingly  by  accident,  should  overhear  him 
at  prayers.     Braxton  had  heard  praying,  but  never  any  that 


PIN-HOLKS   IN   THE   CURTAIN.  35 

had  the  unction  of  Peek's.  From  that  time  forth  Peek  had 
him  completely  under  his  control. 

Peek  did  not  abuse  his  authority.  He  ruled  wisely,  though 
despotically.  At  last  the  accidental  encounter  with  his  dying 
mother  introduced  a  new  world  of  thoughts  and  emotions. 
Short  as  was  his  opportunity  for  acquaintance  with  her,  such  a 
wealth  of  tenderness  and  love  as  she  lavished  upon  him  devel- 
oped a  hitherto  inactive  and  undreamed-of  force  in  his  soul. 
The  aiFectional  part  of  his  nature  was  touched.  She  told  him 
of  the  delight  his  father  used  to  take  in  playing  with  him,  an 
infant ;  and  when  he  thought  of  that  father's  fate,  shot  down 
for  resisting  the  lash,  he  felt  as  if  he  could  tear  the  first  up- 
holder of  slavery  he  might  meet  limb  from  limb,  in  his  rage. 

The  mother  died,  and  then  all  seemed  worthless  and  insipid 
to  Peek.  Having  seen  how  little  heed  was  paid  to  the  feel- 
ings of  slaves  in  separating  those  of  opposite  sex  who  had 
become  attached  to  each  other,  he  early  in  life  resolved  to  shun 
all  sexual  intimacies,  till  he  should  be  free.  He  saw  that  in 
slavery  the  distinction  between  licit  and  illicit  connections  was 
a  playful  mockery.  The  thought  of  being  the  father  of  a  slave 
was  horrible  to  him ;  and  neither  threats  of  the  lash  nor  coax- 
ings from  masters  and  overseers  could  induce  him  to  entenirtot 
those  temporary  alliances  which  Mr.  Herbert  used  pleasanci/ 
to  call  "  the  holy  bonds  of  matrimony."  His  resolution  grew 
to  be  a  passion  stronger  even  than  desire. 

Thus  the  affections  were  undeveloped  in  him  till  he  encoun- 
tered his  mother.  He  knew  of  no  relative  on  earth,  after  her, 
to  love,  —  no  one  to  be  loved  by.  Life  stretched  before  him 
flat,  dull,  and  unprofitable ;  and  death,  —  what  was  that  but 
the  plunge  into  nothingness  ? 

True,  Mr.  Herbert  and  the  clergyman  who  drank  claret 
with  Mr.  Herbert  after  the  latter  had  shot  down  Big  Sam 
talked  of  a  life  beyond  the  grave ;  but  could  such  humbugs 
as  they  were  be  believed  ?  Could  the  stories  be  trustworthy, 
which  were  based  mainly  on  the  truth  of  a  book  which  all  the 
preachers  (so  he  supposed)  declared  was  the  all-sufficient  au- 
thority for  slavery  ?  Well  might  Peek  distrust  the  promise 
that  was  said  to  rest  only  on  writings  that  were  made  to  supply 
the  apology  of  injustice  and  bloody  wrong! 


36  PECULIAR. 

TVliile  in  this  state  of  mind,  he  heard  of  Corinna,  the  quad- 
roon girl.  Unattractive  in  person^  slow  of  apprehension,  and 
rarely  uttering  a  word,  she  had  hitherto  excited  only  his  pity. 
But  now  she  fell  into  trances  during  which  slie  seemed  to  be 
a  new  and  entirely  different  being.  At  his  first  interview  with 
her  when  she  fell  into  one  of  these  inexplicable  states,  she 
seized  his  hand,  and  imitating  the  look,  actions,  and  very  tone 
of  his  dying  mother,  poured  forth  such  a  flood  of  exhortations, 
comfortings,  warnings,  and  encouragements,  that  he  was  bewil- 
dered and  confounded. 

TTliat  could  it  all  mean  ?  The  power  that  spoke  through 
Corinna  claimed  to  be  his  mother,  and  seemed  to  identify 
itself,  as  far  as  revelations  to  the  undei-standing  could  go.  It 
recalled  the  little  incidents  that  had  passed  between  them  in 
the  presence  of  no  other  mtness.  It  pierced  to  his  inmost 
secrets,  —  secrets  which  he  well  knew  he  had  communicated 
to  no  human  being. 

And  yet  Peek  saw  upon  reflection  that,  though  a  preternat- 
ural faculty  was  plainly  at  work,  —  a  faculty  that  took  posses- 
sion of  his  mind  as  a  photogi'apher  does  of  all  the  stones,  flaws, 
and  stains  in  the  wall  of  a  buildinor.  —  there  was  no  sufficient 
identification  of  that  faculty  with  the  individual  he  knew  as 
his  mother.  Little  that  might  not  already  have  been  in  his 
own  mind,  long  hidden,  perhaps,  and  forgotten,  was  revealed  to 
him. 

He  also  concluded  that  the  intelligence,  whatever  it  might 
be,  was  a  fallible  one,  and  that  it  would  be  folly  to  give  up  to 
its  guidance  his  own  free  judgment. 

He  renewed  his  inter^dews  daily  as  long  as  the  quadi'oon 
girl  lived.  Skeptical,  cautious,  and  meditative,  he  must  test 
all  these  phenomena  over  and  over  again.  And  he  did  test 
them.  He  established  conditions.  He  made  records  on  the 
spot.  He  removed  all  possibilities  of  collusion  and  deception. 
And  still  the  same  phenomena ! 

Nor  were  they  confined  to  the  imperfect  wonders  of  clair- 
voyance and  prophecy.  Once  in  the  broad  daylight,  when  he 
was  alone  with  the  invalid  girl  in  her  hut,  and  no  other  human 
being  within  a  distance  of  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  she  was  lifted 
horizontally  before  his  eyes  into  the  air,  and  kept  there  swa}- 


PIN-HOLES  IN  THE   CURTAIN.  37 

ing  about  at  least  a  third  of  a  minute,  while  the  drapery  of  her 
dress  clung  to  her  person  as  if  held  by  an  invisible  hand.* 

A  bandore  —  a  stringed  musical  instrument  the  name  of  which 
has  been  converted  by  the  negroes  into  hanjo  —  hung  on  a  nail 
in  the  wall.  One  moonlight  evening,  when  no  third  person  was 
present,  this  African  lute  was  detached  by  some  invisible  force 
and  carried  by  it  through  the  room  from  one  end  to  the  other ! 
It  would  touch  Peek  on  the  head,  then  float  away  through  the 
air,  visible  to  sight,  and  sending  forth  from  its  chords,  smitten 
by  no  mortal  fingers,  delectable  strains.  The  same  invisible 
power  would  tune  the  instrument,  tightening  the  strings  and 
trying  them  with  a  delicate  skill ;  and  then  it  would  hang  the 
banjo  on  its  nail. 

After  this  improvised  concert.  Peek  felt  all  at  once  a  warm 
living  hand  upon  his  forehead,  first  lovingly  patting  it  and  then 
passing  round  his  cheek,  under  his  chin,  and  up  on  the  other 
side  of  his  face.  He  grasped  the  hand,  and  it  returned  his 
pressure.  It  was  a  hand  much  larger  than  Corinna's,  and  she 
lay  on  her  back  several  feet  from  him,  too  far  to  touch  him 
with  any  part  of  her  person.  Plainly  in  the  moonlight  he 
could  see  it,  —  a  perfect  hand,  resembling  his  mother's !  It 
shaded  off  into  vacuity  above  the  wrist,  and,  even  while  he 
held  it  solid  and  flesh-like,  melted  all  at  once,  like  an  impalpa- 
ble ether,  in  his  grasp.t 

*  Similai*  occurrences  are  related  by  Cotton  Mather  to  have  taken  place  in 
Boston  in  1693.  Six  witnesses,  whose  affidavits  he  gives,  namely,  Samuel 
Aves,  Robert  Earle,  John  Wilkins,  Dan  Williams,  Thomas  Thornton,  and 
William  Hixdson,  testify  to  having  repeatedly  seen  Margaret  Rule  lifted  from 
her  bed  up  near  to  the  ceiling  by  an  invisible  force.  It  is  a  cheap  way  of 
getting  rid  of  such  testimony  to  say  that  the  witnesses  were  false  or  incom- 
petent. The  present  writer  could  name  at  least  six  witnesses  of  his  own 
acquaintance  now  living,  gentlemen  of  character,  intelligence,  sound  senses 
and  sound  judgment,  who  will  testify  to  having  seen  similar  occun-ences. 
The  other  phenomena,  related  as  witnessed  by  Peek,  are  such  as  hundi-eds  of 
intelligent  men  and  women  in  the  United  States  will  confirm  by  their  testi- 
mony. Indeed,  the  number  of  believers  in  these  phenomena  may  be  now 
fairly  reckoned  at  more  than  three  million. 

t  There  are  thousands  of  intelligent  persons  in  the  United  States  who 
will  testify  to  the  fact  of  spirit  touch.  The  writer  has  on  several  occasions 
felt,  though  he  has  not  seen,  a  live  hand,  guided  by  intelligence,  that  he  was 
fully  convinced  belonged  to  no  mortal  person  present.  The  conditions  were 
such  as  to  debar  trick  or  deception.  There  are  several  tnistworthy  wit- 
nesses, whom  the  writer  could  name,  who  have  both  seen  and  felt  the  phe- 
nomenon, and  tested  it  as  thoroughly  as  Peek  is  represented  to  have  done. 


38  PECULIAR. 

These  phenomena,  with  continual  variations,  were  repeated 
day  after  day  and  night  after  night.  Flowers  would  drop  from 
the  ceiling  into  his  hands,  delicious  odoi^  of  fruits  would  diffuse 
themselves  through  the  room.  A  music  like  that  of  the  Swiss 
bell-ringers  would  break  upon  the  silence,  continuing  for  a 
minute  or  more.  A  pen  would  start  up  from  the  table  and 
write  an  intelligible  sentence.  A  castanet  would  be  played  on 
and  dashed  about  furiously,  as  if  by  some  in^nsible  Bacchante. 
A  clatter,  as  of  the  hammering  of  a  hundred  carpenters,  would 
suddenly  make  itself  heard.  A  voice  would  speak  intelligible 
sentences,  sometimes  using  a  tin  trumpet  for  the  purpose.  Arti- 
cles of  furniture  would  pass  about  the  room  and  cross  each 
other  with  a  swiftness  and  precision  that  no  mortal  could  imi- 
tate. The  noise  of  dancers,  using  their  feet,  and  keeping  time, 
would  be  heard  on  the  floor. 

Once  Corinna  asked  him  to  leave  his  watch  with  her.  He 
did  so.  When  he  was  several  rods  from  the  house  she  called 
to  him,  "  You  are  sure  you  have  n't  your  watch  ?  "  "  Yes, 
sure,"  replied  Peek.  He  hurried  home,  a  distance  of  tw^o 
miles,  without  meeting  a  human  being.  On  undressing  to  go 
to  bed,  he  found  his  watch  in  his  vest  pocket. 

These  physical  thaumaturgies  produced  upon  Peek  a  more 
astounding  effect  than  all  the  evidences  of  mind-reading  and 
clairvoyance.  In  the  communications  made  to  him  by  the 
"  power,"  there  was  generally  something  unsatisfying  or  incom- 
plete. He  would,  for  instance,  think  of  some  departed  friend, 
—  a  white  man,  perhaps,  —  and,  without  uttering  or  writing  a 
word,  would  desire  some  manifestation  from  that  friend.  Im- 
mediately Corinna  would  strip  from  her  arm  the  di-apery,  and 
show  on  her  skin,  written  in  clear  crimson  letters,  some  brief 
message  signed  by  the  right  name.  And  then  the  supposed 
bearer  of  that  name  (speaking  through  Corinna)  would  cor- 
rectly recall  incidents  of  his  acquaintance  with  Peek.* 

*  The  phenomenon  of  stigmata  appearing  on  the  flesh  of  impressible  me- 
diums is  one  of  the  most  common  of  the  manifestations  of  modern  Spiritual- 
ism. Sometimes  written  words  and  sometimes  outline  representations  of 
objects  appear,  under  circumstances  that  make  deception  impossible.  The 
writer  has  often  witnessed  them.  St.  Francis,  and  many  other  saints  of  the 
Catholic  Church,  were  the  subjects  of  similar  phenomena.  The  late  Earl  of 
Shrewsbury,  a  Catholic  nobleman,  has  published  a  long  account  of  their 
occurrence  during  the  present  century.  The  Catholic  Church  has  been 
always  true  to  the  doctrine  of  the  miraculous. 


PIN-HOLES  IN  THE  CURTAIN.  39 

Thus  much  was  amazing  and  satisfactory ;  but  when  Peek 
analyzed  it  all  in  thought,  he  found  that  no  sufficient  proof  of 
identification  had  been  given.  A  "  power,"  able  to  probe  his 
own  mind,  might  get  from  it  all  that  was  spoken  relative  to  the 
individual  claiming  identity ;  might  even  know  how  to  imitate 
that  individual's  handwriting.  Peek  concluded  that  one  must 
be  himself  in  a  spiritual  state  in  order  to  identify  a  spirit.  The 
so-called  "  communications  "  he  found,  for  the  most  part,  monot- 
onous. They  were,  some  of  them,  above  Corinna's  capacity, 
but  not  above  his  own.  Erroneous  answers  were  not  unfre- 
quently  given,  especially  in  reply  to  questions  upon  matters  of 
worldly  concern.  He  was  repeatedly  told  of  places  where  he 
could  find  silver  and  gold,  and  never  truly. 

He  concluded  that  to  surrender  one's  faith  implicitly  to  the 
word  of  a  spirit  out  of  the  flesh,  either  on  moral  or  on  secular 
questions,  was  about  as  unwise  as  it  would  be  to  give  one's  self 
up  to  the  control  of  a  spirit  in  the  flesh,  —  a  mere  mortal  like 
himself  He  was  satisfied  by  his  experience  that  it  was  not 
in  the  power  of  spirits  to  impair  his  own  freedom  of  will  and 
independence  of  thought,  so  long  as  he  exercised  them  man- 
fully. And  this  assurance  was  to  his  mind  not  only  a  guaranty 
of  his  own  spiritual  relationship,  but  it  pointed  to  a  supreme, 
omniscient  Spirit,  the  gracious  Father  of  all.  If  the  words 
that  came  through  Corinna  had  proved,  in  every  instance,  in- 
fallible, what  would  Peek  have  become  but  a  passive,  unreason- 
ing recipient,  as  sluggish  in  thought  as  Corinna  herself! 

We  have  said  that  the  "  communications  "  wej-e  generally  on 
a  level  with  Peek's  own  mind.  There  was  once  an  exception. 
Said  a  very  learned  spirit  (learned,  as  to  him  it  seemed)  one 
night,  speaking  thi'ough   Corinna:  — 

"  Attend,  even  if  you  do  not  understand  all  that  I  may  utter. 
The  great  purpose  of  creation  is  to  exercise  and  develop  in- 
dependent, individual  thought,  and  through  that,  a  will  in  har- 
mony with  the  Supreme  Wisdom.  Men  are  subjected  to  the 
discipline  of  the  eai*th-sphere,  not  to  be  happy  there,  but  to 
qualify  themselves  for  happiness,  —  to  deserve  happiness. 

"What  would  all  created  wonders  be  without  thought  to 
appreciate  and  admire  them  ?  Study  is  worship.  Admiration 
is  worship.     Of  what  account  would  be  the  starry  heavens,  if 


40  PECULIAR. 

there  were  not  mind  to  study  and  to  wonder  at  creation,  and 
thus  to  fit  itself  for  adoration  of  the  Creator  ? 

"  My  friend  Lessing,  when  he  was  on  your  earth,  once  said, 
that,  if  God  would  give  him  truth,  he  would  decline  the  gift, 
and  prefer  the  labor  of  seeking  it  for  liimself.  But  most  men 
are  mentally  so  inert,  they  would  rather  believe  than  examine ; 
and  so  they  flatter  themselves  that  their  loose,  unreasoning 
acquiescence  is  a  saving  belief.  Pernicious  error !  All  the 
mistakes  and  transgressions  of  men  arise  either  from  feeble,  im- 
perfect thinking,  or  from  not  thinking  at  all. 

"  The  heart  is  much,  —  is  principal ;  but  men  must  not  hope 
to  rise  until  they  do  their  own  thinking.  They  cannot  think 
by  proxy.  They  must  exercise  the  mind  on  all  that  pertains 
to  their  moral  and  mental  growth.  You  may  perhaps  some- 
times wish  that  you  too,  like  this  poor,  torpid,  parasitical 
creature,  Corinna,  might  be  a  medium  for  outside  spirits  to 
influence  and  speak  through.  But  beware  !  You  know  not 
what  you  wish.  Learn  to  prize  your  individuality.  The  wis- 
dom Corinna  may  utter  does  not  become  hers  by  appropriation. 
In  her  mind  it  falls  on  barren  soil. 

"  We  all  are  more  or  less  mediums ;  but  the  innocent  man 
is  he  who  resists  and  overcomes  temptation,  not  he  who  never 
felt  its  power ;  and  the  wise  man  is  he  who,  at  once  recipient 
and  repellent,  seeks  to  appropriate  and  assimilate  with  his 
beino;  whatever  of  good  he  can  get  from  all  the  instrumental- 

o  o  o 

ities  of  nature,  divine  and  human,  angelic  and  demoniac." 

"Peek  derived  an  indefinable  but  awakening  impression  from 
these  words,  and  asked,  "  Is  the  Bible  true  ?  " 

The  reply  was :  "  It  is  true  only  to  him  who  construes  it 
aright.  If  you  find  in  it  the  justification  of  American  slavery, 
then  to  you  it  is  not  true.  All  the  theologies  which  would 
impose,  as  essentials  of  faith,  speculative  dogmas  or  historical 
declarations  which  do  not  pertain  to  the  practice  of  the  highest 
human  morality  and  goodness,  as  taught  in  the  words  and  the 
example  of  Christ,  are,  in  this  respect  at  least,  irreverent,  mis- 
chievous, and  untrue." 

"  How  do  I  know,"  asked  Peek,  "  that  you  are  not  a  devil  ?  " 

"  I  am  aware  of  no  way,"  was  the  reply,  "  by  which,  in  your 

present  state,  you  can  know  absolutely  that  I  am  not  a  devil, 


PIN-HOLES  IN  THE   CURTAIN.  41 

—  even  Beelzebub,  the  prince  of  devils.  Each  man's  measure 
of  truth  must  be  the  reason  God  has  given  him.  But  of  this 
you  may  rest  assured :  it  is  a  great  point  gained  to  be  able  to 
believe  really  even  in  a  devil.  Given  a  devil,  you  will  one  day 
work  yourself  so  far  into  the  light  as  to  believe  in  an, angel." 

"  Is  there  a  God  ?  "  asked  the  slave. 

"  God  is,"  said  the  spirit,  "  and  says  to  thee,  as  once  to  Pascal, 
'  Be  consoled  !  ®liou  tooulbst  not  seek  me,  if  tl)ou  l)abst 
not  founb  me.' " 

These  were  almost  the  only  words  Peek  ever  received 
through  Corinna  that  struck  him  by  their  superiority  to  what 
lie  himself  could  have  imagined ;  and  he  was  impressed  by 
them  accordingly.  Though  they  were  above  his  comprehen- 
sion at  the  moment,  he  thought  he  might  grow  up  to  them,  and 
he  caused  them  to  be  repeated  slowly  while  he  wrote  them 
down. 

Corinna  died,  and  Peek  kept  on  thinking. 

AVliat  rapture  in  thought  now  !  What  a  new  meaning  in  life  ! 
What  a  new  universe  for  the  heart  was  there  in  love  !  Hence- 
forth the  burden  and  the  mystery  of  "  all  this  unintelligible 
world  "  was  lightened  if  not  dissolved ;  for  death  was  but  the  step 
to  a  higher  plane  of  life.  The  old,  trite  emblem  of  the  chrysalis 
was  no  mere  barren  fancy.  Continuous  life  was  now  to  his 
mind  a  certainty;  arrived  at,  too,  by  the  deductions  of  ex- 
perience, sense,  and  reason,  as  well  as  intimated  by  the  eager 
thii'st  of  the  heart. 

The  process  by  w^hich  he  made  the  phenomena  he  had  ^vit- 
nessed  conduce  to  this  conclusion  was  briefly  this.  An  invisible, 
intelligent /orce  had  lifted  heavy  articles  before  his  eyes,  played 
on  musical  instruments,  wi-itten  sentences,  and  spoken  words. 
This  force  claimed  to  be  a  human  spirit  in  a  human  form,  of 
tissues  too  fine  to  be  visible  to  our  grosser  senses.  It  could 
pass,  hke  heat  and  electricity,  through  what  might  seem  mate- 
rial impediments.  It  had  a  plastic  power  to  reincarnate  itself 
at  will,  and  imitate  human  forms  and  colors,  under  certain  cir- 
cumstances, and  it  gave  partial  proof  of  this  by  showing  a 
hand,  an  arm,  or  a  foot  undistinguishable  from  one  of  flesh  and 
blood.  On  one  occasion  the  human  form  entire  had  been  dis- 
played, been  touched,  and  had  then  dissolved  into  invisibility 
and  intangibility  before  him. 


42  PECULIAR. 

Now  he  must  eitlier  take  the  word  of  this  intelligent  "  force," 
that  it  was  an  independent  spiritual  entity,  or  he  must  account 
for  its  acts  by  some  other  su))position.  The  "  force, "  in  its 
communications  to  his  mind,  had  shown  it  was  not  infallible ; 
it  had  erred  in  some  of  its  predictions,  although  in  others  it 
had  been  wonderfully  correct.  If  its  explanation  of  itself  was 
untrue,  —  if  no  outside  intelligent  force  were  operating,  —  the 
other  supposition  was,  that  the  phenomena  were  a  proceeding 
either  from  himself,  the  spectator,  or  from  Corinna.  And  here, 
without  knowing  it,  Peek  found  himself  speculating  on  the 
theory  of  Count  Gasparin,*  who  has  had  the  candor  to  brave 
the  laugh  of  modern  science  (a  very  different  thing  from 
scientia)  by  recounting  as  facts  what  Professor  Faraday  and 
our  Cambridge  savans  denounce  as  impositions  or  delusions. 

Peek  was  therefore  reduced  to  these  two  explanations :  either 
the  "force"  was  a  spirit  (caJl  it,  if  you  please,  an  outside 
power),  as  it  claimed  to  be,  or  it  was  a  faculty  unconsciously 
exerted  by  the  mortals  present.  In  either  case,  it  supplied  an 
assurance  of  spirit  and  immortality ;  for  it  might  fairly  be  pre- 
sumed that  such  wonderful  powers  would  not  be  wrapt  up  in  the 
human  organism  except  for  a  purpose ;  and  that  purpose,  what 
could  it  be  but  the  future  development  of  those  powers  under 
suitable  conditions  ?  So  either  of  Peek's  hypotheses  led  to  the 
same  precious  and  ineffable  conviction  of  continuous  life,  —  of 
the  soul's  immortality! 

On  one  occasion  a  Northern  Professor,  who  had  given  liis  days 
to  the  positive  sciences,  and  who  believed  in  matter  and  motion, 
and  nothing  else,  passed  a  week,  while  visiting  the  South  for 
his  health,  with  his  old  friend  and  classmate,  jNIr.  Barnwell ; 
and  Peek  overheard  the  following  conversation. 

"  How  do  you  get  rid  of  all  this  testimony  on  the  subject  ?  " 
asked  jSIi*.  Barnwell. 

"  Stuff  and  nonsense ! "  exclaimed  the  Professor.  "  That  a 
poor  benighted  nigger  should  believe  this  trash  is  n't  surprising. 
That  poets,  like  Willis  and  Mrs.  Browning,  should  give  in  to  it 
may  be  tolerated,  for  they  are  privileged.  In  them  the  imagi- 
native faculty  is  irregulai'ly  developed.     But  that  sane  and 

*  Author  of  "  The  Uprising  of  a  Great  People,"  "  America  before  Eu- 
rope," &c.;  also  of  two  large  volumes  on  Modern  Spiritualism. 


PIN-HOLES  IN  THE  CURTAIN.  43 

intellio-ent  white  men  like  Edmonds,  and  Tallmadge,  and  Bow- 
ditch,  and  Brownson,  and  Bishop  Clark  of  Rhode  Island,  and 
Howitt,  and  Chambers,  and  Coleman,  and  Dr.  Gray,  and  Wil- 
kinson, and  Mountford,  and  Robert  Dale  Owen,  should  grave- 
ly swallow  these  idiotic  stories,  is  lamentable  indeed.  The 
spectacle  becomes  humiliating,  and  I  sigh,  '  Poor  human  na- 
ture!'" 

"  But  Peek  is  far  from  being  a  benighted  nigger,"  replied 
Barnwell ;  "  he  can  read  and  write  as  well  as  you  can ;  he 
is  the  best  shot  in  the  county ;  he  is  a  good  mechanic ;  for  a 
time  he  waited  on  one  of  the  great  jugglers  at  the  St.  Charles  ; 
he  can  explain  or  cleverly  imitate  all  the  tricks  of  all  the  con- 
jurers ;  he  is  not  a  man  to  be  humbugged,  especially  by  a  poor 
sick  oirl  in  a  hut  witli  no  cellar,  no  apparatus,  no  rooms  where 
any  coadjutor  could  hide-  It  has  been  the  greatest  puzzle  of 
my  life  to  know  how  to  explain  Peek's  stories." 

"  Half  that  is  extraordinary  in  them,"  said  the  Professor,  "  is 
probably  a  He,  and  the  other  half  is  delusion.  Not  one  man  in 
fifty  is  competent  to  test  such  occurrences.  Men's  senses  have 
not  been  scientifically  trained ;  their  love  of  the  marvellous 
blinds  them  to  the  simplest  solutions  of  a  mystery.  Hoio  to 
observe  is  one  of  the  most  difficult  of  arts ;  and  one  must  un- 
dergo rigid  scientific  culture  in  the  practical  branches  before  he 
can  observe  properly." 

"  Under  your  theory.  Professor,  ninety-eight  men  out  of 
every  hundred  ought  to  be  excluded  as  witnesses  from  our 
courts  of  justice.  It  strikes  me  that  a  fellow  like  Peek  — 
with  his  senses  always  in  good  working  trim,  who  never  misses 
his  aim,  who  can  hit  a  mark  by  moonlight  at  forty  paces,  and 
shoot  a  bird  on  the  wing  in  bright  noonday,  who  can  detect  a 
tread  or  a  flutter  of  wings  when  to  your  ear  all  is  silence  —  is 
as  competent  to  see  straight  and  judge  of  sights  and  sounds  as 
any  blinkard  from  a  college,  even  though  he  wear  spectacles 
and  call  himself  professor  of  mathematics.  Remember,  Peek 
is  not  a  superstitious  nigger.  He  will  feel  personally  obliged 
to  any  ghost  who  will  show  himself  He  shrinks  from  no 
haunted  room,  no  solitude,  no  darkness." 

"  Truly,  Horace,  you  speak  as  if  you  half  believed  these 
absurdities." 


44  PECULIAR. 

"  No,  —  I  wish  I  could.  Peek  once  said  to  me,  that  he 
would  n't  have  believed  these  things  on  my  testimony,  and 
couldn't  expect  me  to  believe  them  on  his" 

"  Our  business,"  said  the  Professor,  "  is  with  the  life  before 
us.  I  agree  with  Comte,  that  we  ought  to  confine  ourselves 
to  positive,  demonstrable  facts ;  with  Humboldt,  that  '  there  is 
not  much  to  boast  of  after  our  dissolution,'  and  that  '  the  blue 
regions  on  the  other  side  of  the  grave '  *  are  probaV)ly  a  poet's 
dream.  Let  us  not  trouble  ourselves  about  the  inexplicable  or 
the  uncertain." 

"  But  you  do  not  consider.  Professor,  that  Peek's  facts  are 
positive  to  his  experience.  Besides,  to  say,  with  Comte,  that 
a  fact  is  inexplicable,  and  that  we  can't  go  beyond  it,  is  not  to 
demonstrate  that  the  fact  has  its  cause  in  ifself ;  it  is  merely  to 
confess  the  mystery  of  a  cause  unknown."  t 

"  TTell,  Horace,  I  'm  sleepy,  and  must  retire.  I  '11  find  an 
opportunity  to  cross-examine  Peek  before  I  go,  and  you  shall 
see  how  he  will  contradict  and  stultify  himself." 

Before  the  opportunity  was  found,  the  Professor  had  passed 
on.  Less  modest  than  Kabelais  was  in  his  last  moments,  he 
did  not  condescend  to  say,  "  I  go  to  inquire  into  a  great  possi- 
bility." The  physician  in  attendance,  who  was  a  young  man, 
and  had  recently  "  experienced  religion,"  asked  the  Professor 
if  he  had  found  the  Lord  Jesus.  To  which  the  Professor, 
making  a  wry  face,  replied,  "  Jargon ! "  "  Have  you  no  regard 
for  your  soul  ? "  asked  the  well-meaning  doctor.  "  Can  you 
prove  to  me,  young  man,  that  I  have  a  soul  ?  "  returned  the 
Professor,  trying  to  raise  himself  on  his  pillow,  in  an  argu- 
mentative posture.  "  Don't  you  believe  in  a  future  state  ?  " 
asked  the  doctor.  '■  I  believe  what  can  be  proved,"  said  the 
Professor  ;  "  and  there  are  two  things,  and  only  two,  that  can  be 
proved,  —  though  Berkeley  thinks  we  can't  prove  even  those, 
—  matter  and  motion.  %  All  phenomena  are  reducible  to  matter 
and  motion,  —  matter  and  motion,  —  matter  and  mo-o-o —  " 


*  See  Alexander  Humboldt's  Letters  to  Vamhagen. 
t  See  Edouard  Laboulaye,  "  De  la  Personnalite  Divine." 
X  Tertallian,  a  devout  Christian,  when  he  wrote  the  following,  would  seem 
to  have  believed  there  could  be  no  spirit  independent  of  substance  and 
form:  "  Nihil  enim,  si  non  corpus.     Omne  quod  est,  corpus  estsui  generis; 


PIN-HOLES  IN  THE  CURTAIN.  45 

The  effort  was  too  much  for  the  moribund  Professor.  He 
did  not  complete  the  utterance  of  his  formula,  at  least  on  this 
side  of  the  great  curtain.  Probably  when  he  awoke  in  the 
next  life,  conscious  of  his  identity,  he  felt  very  much  in  the 
mood  of  that  other  man  of  science,  who,  on  being  told  that  the 
microscope  would  confute  an  elaborate  theory  he  had  raised, 
refused  to  look  through  the  impertinent  instrument. 

For  several  months  Peek  retained  his  place  under  Braxton. 
But  even  overseers,  whip  in  hand,  cannot  frighten  off  Death. 
Braxton  disappeared  through  the  common  portal.  His  suc- 
cessor. Hawks,  had  a  theory  that  the  true  mode  of  managing 
niggers  was  to  overawe  them  by  extreme  severity  at  the  start, 
and  then  taper  off  into  clemency.  He  had  been  lord  of  the  lash 
a  week  or  two,  when  he  was  asked  by  Mr.  Barnwell  how  he 
got  along  with  Peek. 

"  Capitally !  "  replied  Hawks.  "  I  took  care  to  put  him 
through  his  paces  at  our  first  meeting,  —  took  the  starch  right 
out  of  him.  He  'd  score  his  own  mother  now  if  I  told  him  to. 
He 's  a  thorough  nigger  —  is  Peek.  A  nigger  must  fear  a 
white  man  before  he  can  like  him.  Peek  would  go  through 
fire  and  water  for  me  now.  He  has  behaved  so  well,  I  have 
given  him  a  pass  to  visit  his  sister  at  Carter's." 

"  I 'never  knew  before  that  Peek  had  a  sister,"  said  Barn- 
well. 

Peek  did  not  come  back  from  that  visit. 

nihil  est  incorporale,  nisi  quod  non  est.  Quis  enim  negabit  Deum  corpus 
esse,  etsi  Deus  spiritus  est?  Spiritus  enim  corpus  sui  generis,  sua  effigie;" 
—  "  For  there  is  nothing,  if  not  body.  All  that  is,  is  body  after  its  kind ; 
nothing  is  incorporeal  except  what  is  not.  For  who  will  deny  God  to  be 
body,  albeit  God  is  spirit?  For  spirit  is  body  of  its  proper  kind,  in  its  proper 
effigy."  These  views  are  not  inconsistent  with  those  entertained  by  many 
modem  Spiritualists. 


46  PECULIAR. 

CHAPTER    VII. 

AN  UNCONSCIOUS  HEIRESS. 

"  She  is  coming,  my  dove,  my  dear  •, 
She  is  coming,  my  life,  my  fate  ; 
The  red  rose  cries,  '  She  is  near,  she  is  near '  ; 

And  the  white  rose  weeps,  '  She  is  late  '  ; 
The  larkspur  listens,  '  I  hear,  I  hear  ' ; 
And  the  lily  whispers,  '  I  wait'  " 

Tennyson. 

WE  left  Peek  (known  in  New  York  as  Jacobs)  in  the 
little  closet  opening  from  the  apartment  where  Charl- 
ton sat  at  his  papers.  The  knock  at  the  outer  door  was 
succeeded  by  the  entrance  of  a  person  of  rather  imposing 
presence. 

Mr.  Albert  Pompilard  stood  upwards  of  six  feet  in  his  pol- 
ished shoes  and  variegated  sUk  stockings.  He  was  bulky,  and 
could  not  conceal,  by  any  art  of  di-ess,  an  incipient  paunch. 
But  whether  he  was  a  youth  of  twenty-five  or  a  man  of  fifty  it 
was  very  difficult  to  judge  on  a  hasty  inspection.  He 'was  in 
reality  sixty-nine.  He  affected  an  extravagantly  juvenile  and 
jaunty  style  of  dress,  and  was  never  twenty-four  hours  behind 
the  extreme  fashions  of  Young  America. 

On  this  occasion  Mr.  Pompilard  was  dressed  in  a  light-col- 
ored sack  or  pea-jacket,  with  gaping  pockets  and  enormous 
buttons,  the  cloth  being  a  sort  of  shaggy,  woollen  stuff,  coarse 
enough  for  a  mat.  His  pantaloons  and  vest  were  of  the  same 
asWunding  fabric.  He  wore  a  new  black  hat,  just  ironed  and 
brushed  by  Leary ;  a  neckerchief  of  a  striped  red-and-black 
silk,  loosely  tied ;  immaculate  linen  ;  and  a  diamond  on  his 
little  finger.  A  thick  gold  chain  passed  round  his  neck,  and 
entered  his  vest  pocket.  He  swung  a  gold-headed  switch,  and 
was  followed  by  a  little  terrier  dog  of  a  breed  new  to  Broad- 
way. 

]Mr.  Pompilard's  complexion  was  somewhat  florid,  and  pre- 
sented few  marks  of  age.     He  wore  his  own  teeth,  which  were 


AN   UNCONSCIOUS  HEIIJESS.  47 

Still  sound  and  white,  and  his  own  hair,  including  whiskers, 
although  the  hue  was  rather  too  black  to  be  natural. 

"  I  believe  I  have  the  honor  of  addressing  Mr.  Charlton," 
said  Pompilard,  with  the  air  of  one  who  is  graciously  bestow- 
ing a  condescension. 

"  That 's  my  name,  sir.  What 's  your  business  ?  "  replied 
Charlton,  in  the  curt,  dry  manner  of  one  who  gives  his  infor- 
mation grudgingly. 

"  My  name,  sir,  is  Pompilard.  You  may  not  be  aware  that 
there  is  a  sort  of  family  connection  between  us." 

"  Ah  !  yes  ;  I  remember,"  said  Charlton,  looking  inquii'ingly 
at  his  visitor,  but  not  asking  him  to  sit  down. 

Pompilard  returned  his  gaze,  as  if  waiting  for  something ; 
then,  seeing  that  nothing  came,  he  lifted  a  chair,  replaced  it 
with  emphasis  on  the  floor,  and  sat  down.  If  it  was  a  rebuke, 
Charlton  did  not  take  it,  though  the  terrier  seemed  to  compre- 
hend it  fully,  for  he  began  to  bark,  and  made  a  reconnoissance 
of  Charlton's  legs  that  plainly  meant  mischief. 

Pompilard  refreshed  himself  for  a  moment  with  the  lawyer's 
alarm,  then  ordered  Grip  to  lie  down  under  the  table,  which  he 
did  with  a  quavering  whine  of  expostulation. 

"  I  see,"  said  Pompilard,  "  you  almost  forget  the  precise 
nature  of  the  connection  to  which  I  allude.  Let  me  explain  : 
the  lady  who  has  the  honor  to  be  your  wife  is  the  step-mother, 
I  believe,  of  Mr.  Henry  Berwick." 

"  Both  the  step-mother  and  aunt,"  interposed  Charlton,  some- 
what mollified  by  the  language  of  his  visitor. 

"  Yes,  she  was  half-sister  to  liis  own  mother,"  resumed  Pom- 
pilard. "  Well,  the  wife  of  Mr.  Henry  Berwick  was  Miss 
Aylesford  of  Chicago,  and  is  the  niece  of  my  present  wife." 

"  I  understand  all  that,"  said  Charlton ;  and  then,  as  the 
thought  occurred  to  him  that  he  might  make  the  connection 
useful,  he  rose,  and,  offering  his  hand,  said,  "  I  am  happy  to 
make  your  acquaintance,  Mr.  Pompilard."  That  gentleman 
rose  and  exchanged  salutations ;  and  Grip,  under  the  table, 
gave  a  smothered  howl,  subsiding  into  a  whine,  as  if  he  felt 
personally  aggrieved  by  the  concession,  and  would  like  to  put 
his  teeth  in  the  calf  of  a  certain  leg. 

"  My  object  in  calling,"  said  Pompilard,  "  is  merely  to  inquire 


48  PECULIAR. 

if  you  can  give  me  the  present  address  of  Mrs.  Henry  Berwick. 
My  wife  wishes  to  communicate  with  her." 

Cliarlton  generally  either  evaded  a  direct  question  or  an- 
swered it  by  a  lie.  He  never  received  a  request  for  infoima- 
tion,  even  in  regard  to  the  time  of  day,  that  he  did  not  cast 
about  in  his  mind  to  see  how  he  could  gain  by  the  withholding 
or  profit  by  the  giving.  He  took  it  for  granted  that  every 
man  was  trying  to  get  the  advantage  of  him  ;  .and  he  resolved 
to  take  the  initiative  in  that  game.  And  so,  to  Pompilard's 
inquiry,  Charlton  replied  : 

'•  I  really  cannot  say  whether  Mr.  Berwick  is  in  the  country 
or  not.     The  last  I  heard  of  him  he  was  in  Paris." 

"  Then  your  intelligence  of  liim  is  not  so  late  as  mine.  He 
amved  in  Boston  some  days  since,  but  left  immediately  for  the 
West  by  the  way  of  Albany.  I  thought  your  wife  might  be  in 
communication  with  him." 

"  They  seldom  correspond." 

"  I  must  inquire  about  him  at  the  Union  Club,"  said  Pompi- 
lard,  musingly.  "  By  the  way,  Mr.  Charlton,  you  deal  in  real 
estate  securities,  do  you  not  ?  " 

"  Occasionally.  There  are  some  old-fashioned  persons  who 
consult  me  in  regard  to  investments." 

"  Do  you  want  any  good  mortgages  ?  "  asked  Pompilard. 

"Just  at  present,  money  is  very  scarce  and  high,"  replied 
Charlton. 

"  That 's  the  very  reason  why  I  want  it,"  said  his  visitoi . 
"  Could  you  negotiate  a  tliirty  thousand  dollar  mortgage 
for  me  ?  " 

"But  that's  a  very  large  sum." 

"  A]X)ther  reason  why  I  want  it,"  returned  Pompilard. 
"  Supposing  the  security  were  satisfactory,  what  bonus  should 
you  require  for  getting  me  the  money  ?  Please  give  me 
your  lowest  terms,  and  at  once,  for  I  have  an  engagement  in 
five  minutes  on  'Change." 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  Charlton,  in  the  tone  of  a  man  to  whom  it 
is  an  ordinaiy  act  to  drive  the  knife  in  deep,  "  I  tliink  in  these 
times  five  per  cent  would  be  about  right." 

"  Pooh  !  I  '11  bid  you  good  morning,  Mr.  Charlton,"  said  Pom- 
pilard, with  an  aii*  of  unspeakable  contempt.     "  Come,  Grip." 


AN  UNCONSCIOUS  HEIRESS.  49 

And  Mr.  Pompilard  bowed  and  turned  to  leave,  just  as 
another  knock  was  heard  at  the  door.  He  opened  it,  encoun- 
tering four  men,  one  of  whom  kicked  the  unoffending  terrier ;  an 
indignity  which  Pompihird  resented  by  switching  the  aggressor 
smartly  t^vice  round  the  legs,  and  then  passed  on.  He  had  not 
descended  five  steps  when  a  bullet  from  a  pistol  grazed  his 
whiskers.  "  Not  a  bad  shot  that,  my  Southern  friend !  "  said 
the  old  man,  deliberately  continuing  his  descent. 

Before  losing  sight  of  Pompilard  we  must  explain  why  he 
wiis  desirous  that  his  wife  should  communicate  with  Mrs. 
Berwick. 

Inheriting  a  fortune  from  his  mother,  Albert  Pompilard  had 
managed  to  squander  it  in  princely  expenditures  before  he  was 
twenty-five  yeai-s  old.  The  vulgar  dissipations  of  sensualists 
he  despised.  He  abstained  from  wine  and  strong  drink  at  a 
time  when  to  abstain  was  to  be  laughed  at.  With  the  costliest 
viands  and  liquors  on  his  table  for  guests,  he  himself  ate  spar- 
ingly and  di-ank  cold  water.  Had  he  been  as  scrupulously 
moral  in  the  management  of  his  soul  as  he  was  of  his  body,  he 
would  have  been  a  saint.  But  he  was  a  spendthrift  and  a 
gambler  on  a  large  scale. 

Having  ruined  himself  financially,  he  married.  A  little 
money  wliich  his  wife  brought  him  was  staked  entire  on  a  stock 
operation,  and  won.  Thence  a  new  fortune  larger  than  the  fii-st. 
At  thirty-five  he  was  worth  half  a  million.  He  took  his  wife, 
two  daughters,  and  a  son  to  Paris,  gave  entertainments  that 
made  even  royalty  envious,  and  in  ten  years  returned  to  New 
York  a  bankrupt.  His  wife  died,  and  Pompilard  appeared 
once  more  at  the  stock  board.  Ill-luck  now  pursued  him  with 
remorseless  pertinacity,  but  never  succeeded  in  disturbing  his 
equanimity.  He  was  frightfully  in  debt,  but  the  consideration 
never  for  a  moment  marred  his  digestion  nor  his  slumbers. 
The  complacency  of  a  man  contented  with  himself  and  the 
world  shed  its  beams  over  his  features  always. 

At  fifty,  a  widower,  with  three  children,  he  carried  off  and 
married  Miss  Aylesford,  who  at  the  time  was  on  a  visit  to  New 
York,  —  a  girl  of  eighteen,  handsome,  accomplished,  and  worth 
half  a  million.  In  vain  had  her  brother  tried  to  open  her  eyes 
to  Pompilard 's  character  as  an  inveterate  fortune-hunter  and 

3  D 


50  PECULIAR. 

spendthrift.  The  wilful  young  lady  would  have  her  way. 
Pompilard  took  possession,  paid  his  debts  with  interest,  and, 
with  less  than  one  third  of  his  wife  's  property  left,  once  more 
tried  his  fortune  in  Wall  vStreet.  This  time  he  won.  At  sixty 
he  was  richer  than  ever.  He  became  the  owner  of  a  domain 
of  three  hundi^ed  acres  on  the  Hudson, —  built  palatial  residen- 
ces,—  one  in  the  country,  and  one  on  the  favored  avenue  that 
leads  to  Murray  Hill,  —  bought  a  stearal)oat  to  transport  his 
guests  to  and  from  the  city,  —  gave  a  series  of  fetes,  and  kept 
open  houses. 

But  soon  one  of  those  panics  in  the  money-market  which 
take  place  periodically  to  baffle  the  calculations  and  paralyze 
the  efforts  of  large  holders  of  stocks,  occurred  to  confound 
Pompilard.  In  trying  to  hold  his  stocks,  he  was  compelled 
to  make  heavy  sacrifices,  and  then,  in  trying  to  hedge,  he 
heaped  loss  on  loss.  He  had  to  sell  his  acres  on  the  Hud- 
son, —  then  his  town  house,  —  finally  his  horses ;  and  at  sixty- 
nine  we  find  him  trying  to  get  a  mortgage  for  thirty  thousand 
dollars  on  five  or  six  poor  little  houses,  the  last  remnant  from 
the  wreck  of  his  wife 's  property.  In  the  hope  of  effecting  ihis 
he  had  pei'suaded  his  wife  to  communicate  with  her  niece,  ]VIrs. 
Ber\\ack. 

The  brother  of  ISIi'S.  Pompilai'd,  Robert  Aylesford,  had  in- 
herited a  large  estate,  which  he  had  increased  by  judicious  in- 
vestments in  land  on  the  site  of  Chicago,  some  years  before 
that  wondertul  city  had  risen  Hke  an  exhalation  in  a  night 
from  the  marsh  on  which  it  stands.  His  wife  had  died  in 
child-birth,  leaving  a  daughter  whom  he  named  after  her,  Leo- 
nora. His  own  health  was  subsequently  impaired  by  a  ma- 
lignant fever,  caught  in  humane  attendance  on  a  Mr.  Carteret, 
a  stranger  whom  he  had  accidentally  met  at  Cairo  in  Southern 
Illinois. 

Deeply  chagrined  at  his  sister's  imprudent  marriage,  and  feel- 
ing that  his  own  health  was  failing,  Aylesford  conceived  a 
somewhat  romantic  project  in  regard-  to  his  only  child,  Leonora. 
During  a  winter  he  had  passed  in  Italy  he  had  become  ac- 
quainted with  the  Ridgways,  a  refined  and  intelhgent  family 
from  TTestern  Massachusetts.  One  of  the  members,  a  lady, 
kept  a  boarding-school  of  deserved  celebrity  in  tlie  town  of 
Lenbridge. 


AN   UNCONSCIOUS  HEIRESS.  51 

To  this  lady  Aylesford  took  his  little   girl,  then  only  two 
years  old,  and  said :  "  I  wish  you  to  bring  her  up  under  the 
name   of  Leonora  Lockhart,  her  mother's  maiden  name,  and 
her  own,  though  not  all  of  it.     When  she  is  married,  let  her 
know  that  the  rest  of  it  is  Aylesford.     She  is  so  young  she  will 
not  remember  much  of  her  father.     Keep  both  her  and  the 
world  in  ignorance  of  the  fact  that  she  is  born  to  a  fortune.    My 
wish  is  that  she  shall  not  be  the  victim  of  a  fortune-hunter  in 
marriage  ;  and  you  will  take  all  needful  steps  to  carry  out  my 
wish.     I  leave  you  the  address  of  my  man  of  business,  Mr. 
Keep,  in  New  York,  who  will  supply  you  with  a  thousand  dol- 
lars a  year  as  your  compensation  for  supporting  and  educating 
her.     Neither  she  nor  any  one  else  must  know  that  even  this 
allotment  is  on  her  account.     My  physician  orders  me  to  pass 
the  winter  in  Cuba,  and  I  may  not  return.     Should  that  be  my 
lot,  I  look  to  you  to  be  m  the  place  of  a  parent  to  my  child. 
Her  relations  may  suppose  her  dead.     I  shall  not  undeceive 
them.     Her  nearest  relative  is  her  aunt,  my  sister,  Mrs.  Pom- 
pilard,  who,  ui  the  event  of  my  death,  will  be  legally  satisfied 
that  such  a  disposition  is  made  of  my  property  that  it  cannot 
directly  or  indirectly  fall  into  the  hands  of  that  irreclaimable 
spendthrift,  her  husband.     As  I  have  lived  for  the  last  twenty 
years  at  the  West,  I  do  not  thmk  you  will  have  any  difficulty  in 
keeping  my  secret." 

Subsequently  he  said :  "  On  the  day  of  Leonora's  marriage, 
should  she  have  passed  her  eighteenth  year,  the  trustees  of  my 
property  will  have  directions  to  hand  over  to  her  the  income. 
Till  that  it  is  done,  your  Hps  must  be  sealed  in  regard  to  her 
prospects.  In  the  event  of  her  remaining  single,  I  have  made 
provisions  which  Mr.  Keep  will  explain  to  you.  I  am  resolved 
that  my  daughter  shall  not  have  to  buy  a  husband." 

Mrs.  Ridgway  accepted  the  trust  in  the  same  frank  spirit  in 
which  it  was  offered.  IMr.  Aylesford  took  leave  of  his  little 
girl,  and  before  the  next  spring  she  was  fatherless.  Her  eigh- 
teenth birthday  found  her  developed  into  a  young  lady  of  sin- 
gular grace  and  beauty,  with  accomphshments  which  showed 
that  the  body  had  not  been  neglected  in  adorning  the  mind. 
But  the  mystery  that  surrounded  her  family  and  origin  pro- 
duced a  shyness  that  kept   her  aloof  from  social   intimacies. 


52  PECULIAR. 

Vainly  did  her  attentive  friends  try  to  overcome  her  fondness 
for  solitary  musings  and  rides.  Slie  was  possessed  with  the 
idea  that  she  was  an  illegitimate  child,  though  to  this  suspicion 
she  never  gave  utterance  till  candor  seemed  to  compel  it 

On  a  charming  morning  in  June,  as  a  young  man,  just 
escaped  from  a  law-office  in  New  York  for  a  week's  recreation 
amonor  the  hills  of  Lenbridge,  was  entering  "the  cathedral 
road,"  as  it  was  called,  overarched  as  it  was  by  forest-trees, 
and  spread  with  an  elastic  mat  of  pine-leaves,  he  saw  a  young 
lady  riding  a  spirited  horse,  a  bright-colored  bay,  exquisitely 
formed,  and  showing  high  blood  in  every  step.  The  sagacious 
creature  evidently  felt  the  exhilaration  of  the  fresh,  balsamic 
air,  for  he  played  the  most  amusing  antics,  dancing  and  curvet- 
ting as  if  for  the  entertainment  of  a  circus  of  spectators  ;  start- 
ing lightly  and  feigning  fright  at  little  shining  puddles  of  water, 
leaping  over  fallen  stumps,  but  with  such  elastic  ease  and  pre- 
cision as  not  to  stir  his  rider  in  her  seat,  —  and  frolicking  much 
like  a  pet  kitten  when  the  ball  of  yarn  is  on  the  floor. 

His  mistress  evidently  understood  his  ways,  and  he  hers,  for 
she  talked  to  him  and  patted  his  glossy  neck  and  seemed  to 
encourage  him  in  his  tricks.  At  last  she  said,  "  Come,  now, 
Hamlet,  enough  of  this,  —  behave  yourself!"  and  then  he 
walked  on  quite  demurely.  He  traversed  a  cross-road  newly 
repaired  with  broken  stones,  and  entered  on  the  forest  avenue. 
But  all  at  once  Hamlet  seemed  to  go  lame,  and  the  lady  dis- 
mounted, and,  lifting  one  of  liis  fore-feet,  tried  to  extract  a 
stone  that  had  got  locked  in  the  hollow  of  his  sole.  Her 
strength  was  unequal  to  the  task.  The  pedestrian  who  had 
been  watching  her  movements  approached,  bowed,  and  offered 
his  assistance.  The  lady  thanked  him,  and  resigned  into  his 
hand  the  hoof  of  the  gentle  animal,  who  plainly  understood  that 
something  for  his  benefit  was  going  on. 

"  The  stone  is  wedged  in  so  tightly,  I  fear  it  will  requii^e  a 
chisel  to  pry  it  out,"  said  the  new  acquaintance,  whose  name 
was  Henry  Berwick.  Then,  after  a  pause,  he  added,  "  But 
perhaps  I  can  hammer  it  out  with  another  stone." 

"  Let  me  find  one  for  you,"  said  Leonora,  running  here  and 
there,  and  searching  as  she  held  up  her  riding-habit.  * 

Henry  looked  after  her  with  an  interest  he  had  never  felt 


AN  UNCONSCIOUS  HEIRESS.  53 

before  for  any  one  in  tlie  form  of  a  young  lady.  How  bewitcli- 
ingly  that  black  beaver  with  its  ostrich  plumes  sat  on  her  head, 
but  tailed  to  hide  those  luxuriant  curls,  —  luxuriant  by  the 
grace  (Jf  nature  and  not  of  the  hair-dresser !     And  then  that 

face, how  full  of  life  and  tenderness  and  mind !     And  how 

admirably  did  its  red  and  white  contrast  with  the  surrounding 
blackness  of  its  frame  !  And  that  figure,  —  how  were  its  har- 
monious perfections  brought  out  by  the  simple,  closely  fitting 
nankeen  riding-habit  trimmed  with  green! 

While  she  was  engaged  in  her  search,  Mr.  Henry  Berwick 
dishonestly  did  his  best  to  loosen  the  shoe.  All  at  once,  in  the 
most  innocent  manner,  he  exclaimed,  "  This  shoe  is  loose,  —  it 
has  come  off,  —  look  here  !  " 

And  he  held  it  up,  just  as  Leonora  handed  him  a  stone. 

He  took  the  stone,  and  with  one  blow  knocked  out  the  frag- 
ment that  lay  wedged  in  the  hollow  of  the  sole. 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Leonora. 

«  You  are  one  of  Mrs.  Eidgway's  young  ladies,  I  presume," 
said  Henry. 

"  Yes,  I  shall  not  be  back  in  time  for  my  music-lesson,  if  I 
do  not  hurry." 

"  There  is  a  blacksmith  not  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  here. 
My  advice  to  you  is  to  stop  and  have  this  shoe  refitted.  Re- 
member, you  have  a  mile  of  a  newly  macadamized  road  to 
travel  before  you  get  home,  and  over  that  you  will  have  to 
walk  your  horse  slowly  unless  you  restore  him  his  shoe." 

Leonora  seemed  struck  by  these  considerations.  "  I  will  take 
your  advice,"  she  said,  putting  herself  in  the  saddle  with  a 
movement  so  quick  and  easy  that  Berwick  could  not  interpose 
to  help  her.  But  the  horse  limped  so  badly  that  she  once  more 
dismounted. 

"  Let  me  lead  him  for  you,"  said  Berwick,  "  I  shall  not  have 
to  go  a  step  out  of  my  way." 

"You  are  very  obliging,"  replied  the  lady. 

And  the  young  man  led  the  horse,  while  the  young  lady 
walked  by  his  side. 

The  quarter  of  a  mile  was  a  remarkably  long  one.  It  was  a 
full  hour  before  the  blacksmith's  shed  was  reached,  and  then 
Berwick,  secretly  giving  the  man  of  the  anvil  a  dollar,  winked 


54  PECULIAR. 

at  him,  and  said  aloud,  "  Call  us  as  soon  as  you  have  fitted  the 
shoe  " ;  and  then  added,  in  an  aside,  "  Be  an  hour  or  so  about  it" 

The  new  acquaintances  strolled  together  to  a  beautiful  pond 
within  sight  among  the  hills. 

O  that  exquisite  June  morning,  w-ith  its  fresh  foliage,  its 
clear  sky,  its  pine  odors,  its  wild-flowers,  and  its  songs  of  birds  ! 
How  imperishable  in  the  memories  of  both  it  became !  How 
much  happier  were  they  ever  afterwards  for  the  happiness  of 
that  swift-gliding  moment ! 

Leonora  spied  some  harebells  in  the  crevices  of  the  slaty 
rocks  of  a  steep  declivity,  and  pointed  them  out  as  the  first  of 
the  season. 

"  I  must  get  them  for  you,"  cried  Berwick. 

"  No,  no  !     It  is  a  dangerous  place,"  said  Leonora. 

"  They  shall  be  your  harebells,"  said  Berwick,  swinging  him- 
self, by  the  aid  of  a  birch-tree  that  grew  almost  horizontally 
out  of  the  cleft  of  a  rock,  over  the  precipice,  and  snatching  the 
flowei-s.  Leonora  treasured  them  for  years,  pressed  between 
the  leaves  of  Shelley's  Poems. 

Thus  began  a  courtship  which,  three  weeks  afterwards,  was 
followed  by  an  offer  of  marriage.  Early  m  the  acquaintance, 
foreseeing  the  di'ift  of  Berwick's  eager  attentions,  Leonora  had 
frankly  communicated  by  letter  her  susjDicions  in  regai'd  to  her 
own  birth. 

Jji  his  reply  Berwick  had  wi'itten :  "  I  almost  wish  it  may 
be  as  you  imagine,  in  order  that  I  may  the  better  prove  to  you 
the  strength  of  my  attachment ;  for  I  do  not  underrate  the  de- 
sirableness of  an  honorable  genealogy.  No  one  can  prize  more 
than  I  an  unspotted  lineage.  But  I  would  not  marry  the  wo- 
man who  I  did  not  tliink  could  in  herself  compensate  me  for 
the  absence  of  all  advantages  of  family  position  and  wealth  ; 
and  whose  society  could  not  more  than  make  up  for  the  loss  of 
all  social  attractions  that  coiUd  be  offered  outside  of  the  home 
her  presence  would  sanctify.  You  are  the  one  my  heart  points 
to  as  able  to  do  all  tliis  ;  and  so,  Leonora,  whether  it  be  the  bar 
sinister  or  the  ducal  coronet  that  ought  to  be  in  your  coat  of 
arms,  it  matters  not  to  me.  No  herald's  pen  can  make  you 
less  charming  in  my  eyes.  Under  any  cloud  that  could  be 
thrown  over  your  origin,  to  me  you  would  always  be,  as  Portiai 
was  to  Brutus,  a  fair  and  honorable  wife  ;  — 


AN  UNCONSCIOUS  HEIRESS.  55 

•  As  dear  to  me  as  are  the  ruddy  drops 
That  visit  this  sad  heart.' 

Aiid  yet  not  sad,  if  you  were  mine!  So  do  not  think  that 
any  future  development  in  regai'd  to  the  antecedents  of  your- 
self or  of  your  parents  can  detract  from  an  affection  based  on 
those  qualities  which  are  of  the  soul  and  heart,  and  the  worth 
of  which  no  mortal  disaster  can  impair." 

To  all  which  the  impinident  young  lady  returned  this  an- 
swer :  "  Do  not  think  to  outdo  me  in  generosity.  You  judge 
me  independently  of  all  social  considerations  and  advantages ; 
I  will  do  the  same  by  you ;  for  I  know  as  little  of  you  as  you 
do  of  me." 

They  met  the  next  morning,  and  Berwick  said :  "  Is  not  this 
a  very  dangerous  precedent  we  are  setting  for  romantic  young 
people  ?  What  if  I  should  turn  out  to  be  a  swindler  or  a 
bigamist  ?  " 

"  My  heart  would  have  prescience  of  it  much  sooner  than 
my  head,"  replied  Leonora.  "  Women  are  not  so  often  misled 
into  uncongenial  alliances  by  their  affections  as  by  their  passions 
or  their  cfilculations.  The  lamb,  before  he  has  ever  known  a 
wolf,  is  instinctively  awai'e  of  an  enemy's  presence,  even  while 
the  wolf  is  yet  unseen.  If  the  lamb  stopped  to  reason  with 
himself,  he  would  be  very  apt  to  say,  *  Nonsense !  it  is  no  doubt 
a  very  .respectable  beast  who  is  approaching.  Why  should  I 
imagine  he  wants  to  harm  me  ?  ' " 

"  But  what  if  I  am  a  wolf  disguised  as  a  lamb  ?  "  asked 
Berwick. 

"  I  am  so  good  a  judge  of  tune,"  replied  Leonora,  "  that  I 
should  detect  the  sham  the  moment  you  tried  to  cry  haa.  Nay, 
a  repugnant  nature  makes  itself  felt  to  me  by  its  very  presence. 
There  ai-e  some  persons  the  very  touch  of  whose  hand  pro- 
duces an  impression,  I  generally  find  to  be  true,  of  their 
character." 

"  An  ingenious  plea ! "  said  Berwick  with  an  affectation  of 
sarcasm.     "  But  it  does  not  palliate  your  indiscretion." 

"Very  well,  sir,"  replied  Leonora,  "since  you  disapprove 
my  precipitancy,  we  will — " 

Berwick  interrupted  the  speech  at  the  very  portal  of  her 
mouth,  by  surprising  its  warders,  the  lips. 


56  PECULIAR. 

And  so  it  was  a  betrothal. 

How  admirably  had  ]Mrs.  Rid^^ay  behaved  through  it  all ! 
How  scrupulous  she  had  been  in  withholding  all  intimations 
of  Leonora's  prospective  wealth!  There  were  young  men 
among  the  Ridgways,  handsome,  accomplished,  just  entering 
the  hard  paths  of  commercial  or  professional  toil.  How  easy  it 
would  have  been  to  have  hinted  to  some  of  them,  "  Secure  this 
young  lady,  and  your  fortune  is  made.  Let  a  hint  suffice." 
But  Mrs.  Ridgway  was  too  loyal  to  her  trust  to  even  blindly 
convey  by  her  demeanor  towards  Leonora  a  suspicion  that  the 
child  was  aught  more  than  the  dowerless  orphan  she  appeared. 

Berwick  took  a  small  house  in  Brooklyn,  and  prepai-ed  for 
his  marriage.  Clients  were  as  yet  few  and  poor,  but  he  did 
not  shrink  fi'om  living  on  twelve  hmidred  a  yeai*  with  the 
woman  he  loved.  He  was  not  quite  sure  that  his  betrothed 
was  even  rich  enough  to  refurnish  her  own  wardrobe.  So  he 
delicately  broached  the  question  to  iMrs.  Ridgway.  That  lady 
mischievously  told  him  that  if  he  could  let  Leonora  have  fifty 
dollars,  it  might  be  convenient.  The  next  day  Bermck  sent  a 
check  for  ten  times  that  amoimt. 

But  after  the  wedding,  an  elderly  gentleman,  named  Keep, 
to  whom  Berwick  had  been  introduced  a  few  days  before,  took 
him  and  the  bride  aside,  and  delivered  to  him  a  schedule  of 
the  title-deeds  of  an  estate  worth  a  million,  the  bequest  of  the 
bride's  father,  and  the  income  of  which  was  to  be  subject  to 
her  order. 

"  But  this  deranges  all  our  little  plans ! "  exclaimed  the  bride, 
with  delightful  naivete. 

"  Well,  my  children,  you  must  put  up  with  it  as  well  as  you 
can,"  said  ^li\  Keep. 

Berwick  took  the  surprise  gi*avely  and  thoughtfully.  With 
this  great  enlargement  of  his  means  and  opportunities,  were 
not  his  responsibilities  proportionably  increased? 


A  DESCENDANT  OF  THE   CAVALIERS.  57 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

A  DESCENDANT  OF  THE  CAVALIERS. 

"  Pride  of  race,  pride  in  an  ancestry  of  gentlemen,  pride  in  all  those  habitudes  and  in- 
stincts which  separated  us  so  immeasurably  from  the  peddling  and  swindling  Yankee 
nation, —  all  this  pride  has  been  openly  cherished  and  avowed  in  all  simplicity  and  good 
faith."  —  Richmond  {Fa)  Enquirer. 

PEEK  sat  in  the  little  closet  wliich  opened  into  Charlton's 
office.  Suddenly  he  heard  the  crack  of  a  pistol,  followed 
by  a  volley  of  ferocious  oaths.  EffiDrts  seemed  to  be  made  to 
pacify  the  utterer,  who^  was  with  difficulty  withheld  by  his  com- 
panions from  following  the  person  who  had  offended  him.  At 
these  sounds  Peek  felt  a  cold,  creeping  sensation  dowTi  his 
back,  and  a  tightness  in  his  throat,  as  if  it  were  grasped  by  a 
hand.  The  pistol-shot  and  the  nature  of  the  oaths  brought 
before  him  the  figure  of  the  overseer  with  his  broad-brimmed 
hat,  his  whip,  and  his  revolver. 

All  the  negro's  senses  were  now  concentrated  in  the  one 
faculty  of  hearing.  He  judged  that  five  persons  had  entered 
the  room.  The  angry  man  had  cooled  down,  and  the  voices 
were  not  raised  above  a  whisper. 

"  Is  he  here  ?  "  asked  one. 

No  answer  was  heard  in  reply.  Probably  a  gesture  had 
sufficed. 

"  Will  he  resist  ?  " 

"  Possibly.     These  fugitives  usually  go  armed." 

"  What  shall  we  do  if  he  thi'eatens  to  fire  ?  " 

Here  an  altercation  ensued,  during  which  Peek  could  under- 
stand little  of  what  was  uttered.  But  he  had  heard  enough. 
His  thoughts  first  reverted  to  his  wife  and  his  infant  boy,  and 
he  pictured  to  himself  their  destitute  condition  in  the  event  of 
his  being  taken  away.  Then  the  treachery  of  Charlton  glared 
upon  him  in  all  its  deformity,  and  he  instinctively  drew  from 
the  sheath  in  an  inside  pocket  of  his  vest  a  sharp,  glitteriag 
dagger-like  knife.     He  looked  rapidly  around,  but  there  was 

3* 


58  PECULL\B. 

nothing  to  suggest  a  mode  of  escape.  The  only  window  In  the 
closet  was  one  over  the  door  communicating  with  the  office. 

Suddenly  it  occui-red  to  him  that,  if  he  were  to  be  hemmed 
in  in  this  closet,  his  chances  of  escape  would  be  small.  It 
would  be  better  for  him  to  be  in  the  larger  room,  whether  he 
chose  to  adopt  a  defensive  or  an  ofifensive  policy.  Seeing  an 
old  rope  in  a  corner  of  the  closet,  he  seized  it  with  the  avidity 
a  drowning  man  might  show  in  grasping  at  a  straw. 

He  listened  intently  once  more  to  the  whisperers.  A  low 
susurration,  accompanied  with  a  whistling  sound,  he  identi- 
fied at  once  as  coming  from  Skinner,  the  captain  of  the  schooner 
in  which  he  had  made  his  escape.  Then  some  one  sneezed. 
Peek  would  have  recognized  that  sneeze  in  Abyssinia.  It  must 
have  proceeded  from  Colonel  Delancy  Hyde. 

Standing  on  tiptoe  on  a  coal-box,  the  negro  now  looked 
through  a  hole  in  the  green-paper  curtam  covering  the  glass 
over  the  door,  and  surveyed  the  whole  party.  He  found  he 
was  right  in  his  conjectures.  The  captain  was  there  with  one 
of  his  sailors,  —  an  old  inebriate  by  the  name  of  Biggs,  both 
doubtless  ready  to  swear  to  the  slave's  identity.  And  the 
Colonel  was  there  as  natural  as  when  he  appeared  on  the  plan- 
tation, strolling  round  to  take  a  look  at  the  "  smart  niggers," 
so  as  to  be  able  to  recognize  them  in  case  of  need.  Two  police- 
men, armed  with  bludgeons,  and  probably  with  revolvers  ;  and 
Charlton,  with  a  paper  tied  with  red  tape  in  his  hand,  formed 
the  other  half  of  this  agreeable  company.  Peek  marked  well 
their  positions,  put  his  knife  between  his  teeth,  and  descended 
from  the  box. 

Colonel  Delancy  Hyde  is  a  personage  of  too  much  impor- 
tance to  be  kept  waiting  while  we  describe  the  movements  of 
a  slave.  Colonel  Delancy  Hyde  must  be  attended  to  fii-st. 
Tall,  lank,  and  gaunt  in  figure,  round-shouldered  and  stooping, 
he  carried  his  head  very  much  after  the  fashion  of  a  blood- 
hound on  the  scent.  Beard  and  moustache  of  a  reddish,  sandy 
hue,  coarse  and  wiry,  concealed  much  of  the  lower  part  of  a 
face  which  would  have  been  pale  but  for  the  floridity  which 
bad  whiskey  had  impai-ted.  The  features  were  rather  leonine 
than  wolfish  in  outline  (if  we  may  believe  ISLr.  Livingstone,  the 
lion  is  a  less  respectable  beast  than  the  wolf).     But  the  small 


A   DESCENDANT   OF   THE   CAVALIERS.  59 

brownish  eyes,  generally  half  closed  and  obliquely  glancing,  had 
a  haughty  expression  of  penetration  or  of  scorn,  as  if  the  per- 
son on  whom  they  fell  would  be  too  much  honored  by  a  full, 
entire  regard  from  those  sublime  orbs. 

The  Colonel  wore  a  loosely  fitting  frock-coat  and  pantaloons, 
evidently  bought  ready  made.  They  were  of  a  grayish  non- 
descript material  which  he  used  to  boast  was  manufactured  in 
Georgia.  He  generally  carried  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and 
bestowed  his  tobacco-juice  impartially  on  all  sides  with  the 
abandon  of  a  free  and  independent  citizen  who  has  not  been 
used  to  carpets. 

There  were  two  things  of  which  Colonel  Delancy  Hyde  was 
proud :  one,  his  name,  the  other,  his  Virginia  birth.  It  is 
interesting  to  trace  back  the  genealogy  of  heroes ;  and  we  have 
it  in  our  power  to  do  this  justice  to  the  Colonel. 

In  the  year  1618  there  resided  in  London  a  stable-keeper 
of  doubtful  reputation,  and  connected  with  gentlemen  of  the 
turf  who  frequented  Hyde  Park  and  Newmarket  in  the  early 
days  of  that  important  British  institution,  the  horse-race.  This 
man's  name  was  Hyde.  He  had  a  patron  in  Sir  Arthur  De- 
lancy, a  dissipated  nobleman,  whom  he  admired,  naming  after 
him  a  son  who  was  early  initiated  in  all  the  mysteries  of  jock- 
eyship  and  gambling. 

Unfortunately  for  the  youth,  he  did  not  have  the  wit  to  keep 
out  of  the  clutches  of  the  law.  Twice  he  was  arrested  and 
imprisoned  for  swindling.  A  third  offence  of  a  graver  char- 
acter, consisting  in  the  theft  of  a  pocket-book  containing  thir- 
teen shillings,  led  to  his  arraignment  for  grand  larceny,  a 
crime  then  punishable  with  death.  The  gaUows  began  to 
loom  in  the  not  remote  distance  with  a  sharpness  of  outline 
not  pictorially  pleasant  to  the  ambition  of  the  Hyde  family. 

About  that  time  the  "  London  Company,"  whose  colony  in 
Virginia  was  in  a  languishing  condition,  petitioned  the  Crown 
to  make  them  a  present  of  "  vagabonds  and  condemned  men  " 
to  be  sent  out  to  enforced  labor.  The  senior  Hyde  applied  to 
Sir  Arthur  Delancy  to  save  his  namesake  ;  and  that  nobleman 
laid  the  case  before  his  friend,  Sir  Edward  Sandys,  treasurer  of 
the  company  aforesaid.  By  their  joint  influence  the  Hydes 
were  spared  the  disgrace  of  seeing  their  eldest  hung ;  and  King 


60  PECULIAR. 

James  having  gi*aciouslj  granted  the  London  Company's  peti- 
tion for  a  consignment  of  "  vagabonds  and  condemned  men,"  a 
hundred  were  sent  out  (a  mere  fraction  of  the  numbers  of  sim- 
ilar gentry  who  had  preceded  them),  and  of  this  precious  lot 
the  younger  Hyde  made  one.*  Just  a  year  afterwards,  namely, 
in  1620,  a  Dutch  trading-vessel  anchored  in  James  River  with 
twenty  negroes,  and  this  was  the  beginning  of  African  slavery 
in  North  America. 

Neither  threats  nor  lashes  could  induce  young  IMi-.  Hyde, 
this  "  founder  of  one  of  the  first  families,"  to  work.  Soon  after 
his  arrival  on  the  banks  of  the  Cliickahominy  he  stole  a  gun, 
and  thenceforth  got  a  precarious  living  by  shooting,  fishing,  and 
pilfering.  He  took  to  himself  a  female  partner,  and  faithfully 
transmitted  to  his  descendants  the  traits  by  which  he  was  dis- 
tinguished. 

Not  one  of  them,  except  now  and  then  a  female  of  the  stock, 
was  ever  known  to  get  an  honest  living ;  and  even  if  the  poor 
creatures  had  desired  to  do  so,  the  state  of  society  where  their 
lot  was  cast  was  such  as  to  deter  them  from  learning  any  me- 
chanical craft  or  working  methodically  at  any  manual  employ- 
ment. 

Slavery  had  thrown  its  ban  and  its  shme  over  white  labor, 
branding  it  with  disrepute.  To  get  bread,  not  by  the  sweat  of 
your  own  brow,  but  by  somebody  else's  sweat,  became  the  one 
test  of  manhood  and  high  spirit.  To  be  a  gentleman,  you  must 
begin  with  robbery. 

The  Hydes  were  hardly  an  educated  race.  There  was  a  tra- 
dition in  the  family  that  one  of  them  had  been  to  school,  but  if 
he  had,  the  ft-uits  of  culture  did  not  appear.  They  seemed  to 
have  shared  the  benediction  of  Sir  WilUam  Berkeley,  once 
Governor  of  Virginia,  who  wrote  :  "I  thank  God  there  are  no 
free  schools  nor  printing,  and  I  hope  we  shall  not  have  them 
these  hundred  years." 

It  is  true  that  our  Colonel  Delancy  Hyde  could  read  and  write, 
although  indifferently.     The  labor  of  acquiring  this  ability  had 

*  In  a  work  published  in  London  by  De  Foe,  in  1722,  one  6f  his  characters 
speaks  of  the  Virginia  immigration  as  being  composed  either  of  "  first,  such 
as  were  brought  over  by  masters  of  ships,  to  be  sold  as  servants;  or,  second, 
such  as  are  transported,  after  having  been  found  guilty  of  crimes  punishable 
with  death." 


A  DESCENDANT  OF  THE  CAVALIERS.  61 

been  enormous  and  repugnant ;  but  before  his  eighteenth  year 
he  had  acliieved  it ;  and  thenceforth  he  was  a  prodigy  in  the 
eyes  of  the  rest  of  his  kin.  He  got  his  title  of  Colonel  from 
once  receiving  a  letter  so  addressed  from  Senator  Mason,  who 
had  employed  him  to  buy  a  horse.  Among  the  Colonel's  ac- 
quaintances who  could  read,  this  brevet  was  considered  author- 
itative and  sufficient. 

Not  being  of  a  thrifty  and  forehanded  habit,  the  Colonel's 
fiither  never  rose  to  the  possession  of  more  than  three  slaves  at 
a  time  ;  but  he  made  np  for  liis  deficiency  in  this  respect  by 
beating  these  three  all  the  more  frequently.  They  were  a  mis- 
erable set,  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  deserved  many  of  the  whip- 
pings they  got.  The  owner  was  out  of  pocket  by  them,  year 
after  year,  bat  was  too  shiftless  a  manager  to  provide  against 
the  loss,  and  was  too  proud  to  get  rid  of  the  encumbrances  alto- 
gether. He  and  his  cliildren  and  his  neighbors  were  kept  poor, 
squalid,  and  degi-aded  by  a  system  that  in  effect  made  them  the 
serfs  of  a  few  rich  proprietoi'S,  who,  by  discrediting  white  labor, 
were  able  to  buy  up  at  a  trifling  cost  the  available  lands,  and 
then  impoverish  them  by  the  exhausting  crops  wrung  from  the 
generous  soil  by  large  gangs  of  slaves  imder  the  rule  of  supe- 
rior capital  and  intelligence. 

And  yet  no  lord  of  a  thousand  "  niggers  "  could  be  a  more 
bigoted  upholder  than  the  Hydes  of  "our  institutions,  sir." 
(Living  by  jugglery.  Slavery  usually  speaks  of  the  institution  as 
our  institutions.)  They  would  foam  at  the  mouth  in  speaking 
of  those  men  of  the  North  who  dared  to  question  the  divinity 
and  immutability  of  slavery.  To  deny  its  right  to  unHmited 
extension  was  the  one  kind  of  profanity  not  to  be  pardoned. 
It  was  worse  than  atheism  to  say  that  slavery  was  sectional 
and  freedom  national. 

To  the  Colonel's  not  very  clear  geographical  conceptions  the 
white  Americans  south  of  Mason  and  Dixon's  line  were,  with 
hardly  an  exception,  descendants  of  noblemen  and  gentlemen  ; 
while  all  north  were,  to  borrow  the  words  of  BIr.  Jefferson 
Davis,  either  the  "  scum  of  Europe  "  or  "  a  people  whose  an- 
cestors Cromwell  had  gathered  from  the  bogs  and  fens  of 
Ireland  and  Scotland."  * 

*  These  passages  are  from  a  speech  of  President  Davis  at  Jackson,  Miss-, 


62  PECULIAR. 

Colonel  Delancy  Hyde  revelled  in  those  genealogical  invec- 
tives of  a  similar  tenor  by  a  Richmond  editor,  whose  fatuous 
and  frantic  iterations  that  the  Yankees  were  the  descendants 
of  low-born  peasants  and  blackguards,  while  the  Southern 
Americans  are  the  progeny  of  the  English  cavaliers,  betrayed 
a  ludicrous  desire  to  strengthen  his  own  feeble  belief  in  the 
asseveration  by  loud  and  incessant  clamor ;  for  he  had  faith 
in  Sala's  witty  saying,  that,  if -a  man  has  strong  lungs,  and  will 
keep  bawling  day  after  day  that  he  is  a  genius  or  a  gentleman, 
the  public  will  at  last  believe  him. 

The  Colonel  never  tired  of  denouncing  the  Puritans  :  —  "A 
canting,  hyj)percritical  set  of  cusses,  sir ;  but  they  had  some 
little  fight  in  'em,  though  they  could  n't  stahnd  up  agin  the 
caval'yei-s,  —  no  sir-r-r  !  —  the  caval'yere  gev  'em  particular 
hell ;  but  the  Yankee  spawn  of  these  cusses,  —  they  hev 
lost  the  little  pluck  the  Puritans  wonst  had,  and  air  cowards, 
every  mother's  son  on  'em.  One  high-tone  Southern  gemmle- 
man  —  one  descendant  of  the  caval'yers  —  can  clare  out  any 
five  on  'em  in  a  fair  fight." 

December,  1862.  When  he  gets  in  a  passion,  Mr.  Davis  repudiates  the  truth 
even  as  he  would  State  debts.  Notorious  facts  of  history  are  set  aside  in  his 
blind  -wrath.  The  colonists  of  2sew  England,  he  well  knows,  were  the  friends 
and  compatriots  of  Cromwell  and  his  Parliament  ;  and  the  few  prisoners  of 
war  Cromwell  sent  over  from  Ireland  and  England  as  slaves  did  not  consti- 
tute an  appreciable  part  of  the  then  resident  population  of  the  North.  It  is  a 
Avell-known  fact,  which  no  genealogist  will  dispute,  that  not  Virginia,  nor 
<iny  other  American  State,  can  show  such  a  purely  English  ancestry  as 
Massachusetts.  The  writer  of  a  paper  in  the  Xew  York  Continental  Monthly 
for  July,  1863,  under  the  title  of  "  The  Cavalier  Theory  Refuted,"  proves 
this  statistically.  "  Let  it  be  avowed,"  he  says,  "  that  Puritanic  New  Eng- 
land could  always  display  a  greater  array  of  gentlemen  by  birth  than  Virginia, 
or  even  the  entire  South.  This  is  said  deliberately,  because  we  know  whereof 
we  speak."  He  gives  figures  and  names.  And  yet  even  so  judicious  a 
writer  as  John  Stuart  Mill  has  fallen  into  the  error  of  supposing  that  the 
South  had  the  advantage  of  the  North  in  this  respect.  The  anxious  and 
persistent  clamor  of  the  Secessionists  on  this  point,  in  the  hope  to  enlist  the 
sympathy  of  the  British  aristocracy,  has  not  been  wholly  without  effect. 
We  would  only  remark,  in  conclusion,  that  Davis  and  his  brethren,  in  their 
over-anxiety  to  prove  that  their  ancestors  were  gentlemen,  and  ours  clod- 
hoppers, show  the  genuine  spirit  of  the  upstart  and  the  parvenu.  The  true 
gentleman  is  content  to  have  his  gentihty  appear  in  his  acts. 

Mr.  Clay  of  the  Confederate  Congress  has  introduced  a  resolution  propos- 
ing that  the  coat  of  arms  of  the  Slave  Confederacy  shall  be  the  figure  of  a 
cavalier  !  Would  not  a  beggar  on  horseback,  riding  in  a  certain  familiar 
direction,  be  more  appropriate  ? 


A  DESCENDANT   OF   THE   CAVALIERS.  63 

By  a  fair  fight  for  a  descendant  of  the  cavaliers,  the  Colonel 
meant  one  of  two  things  :  either  a  six-baiTelled  revolver  against 
an  unarmed  antagonist,  or  an  ambush  in  which  the  aforesaid 
descendant  could  hit,  but  be  secure  against  being  hit  in  return. 
One  of  the  Colonel's  maxims  was,  "  Never  fire  unless  you  can 
take  youi'  man  at  a  disadvantage." 

His  sire  having  been  unluckily  cast  in  a  petty  lawsuit, "  by 
a  low-born  Yankee  judge,  sir,"  Colonel  Delancy  Hyde  drifted 
oiF  to  the  Southwest,  and  gradually  emerged  into  the  special 
vocation  for  which  the  unfortunate  habits  of  life,  which  the 
Southern  system  had  driven  him  to,  seemed  to  quahfy  him. 
He  became  a  sort  of  agent  for  the  recovery  of  runaway  slaves, 
and  in  this  capacity  had  the  freedom  of  the  different  planta- 
tions, and  was  frequently  apphed  to  for  help  by  bereaved  mas- 
ters. Every  man  is  said  to  have  his  specialty:  the  Colonel 
had  at  last  found  his. 

In  the  survey  which  Peculiar  took  of  the  assemblage  in 
Charlton's  office,  he  saw  that  Charlton  himself  was  separated 
from  the  rest  in  being  behind  a  small  semicircular  counter, 
an  old  piece  of  furniture,  bought  cheap  at  a  street  auction.  By 
getting  in  the  lawyer's  place  the  negro  would  have  a  sort  of 
barrier,  protecting  him  in  front  and  on  two  sides  against  his 
assailants.     Behind  him  would  be  the  stove. 

Stealthily  throwing  open  the  closet-door  he  glided  out,  and 
before  any  one  could  intercept  him,  he  had  fastened  Charlton's 
ai'ms  in  a  noose,  and  was  standing  over  him  with  upraised 
knife.  So  rapid,  so  sudden,  so  unexpected  had  been  the  move- 
ment, that  it  was  all  completed  before  even  an  exclamation  was 
uttered.  The  first  one  to  break  the  silence  was  Charlton,  who 
in  a  paroxysm  of  terror  cried  out,  "  Mercy !  Save  me,  officers  ! 
save  me  ! " 

Iverson,  one  of  the  poHcemen,  started  forward  and  drew  a 
revolver ;  but  Peek  made  a  shield  of  the  body  of  the  lawyer, 
who  now  found  himself  threatened  with  a  pistol  on  one  side 
and  a  knife  on  the  other,  much  to  his  mortal  dismay. 

"  Put  down  your  pistol,  Iverson  !  "  he  stammered.  "  Don't 
attempt  to  do  anything,  any  of  you.  Tliis  g-g-gentleman 
does  n't  mean  to  do  any  harm.  He  will  listen  to  reason.  The 
gentleman  will  listen  to  reason." 


64  PECULIAR. 

"  Gentleman  be  damned ! "  exclaimed  Colonel  Delancy 
Hyde.  "  Officer,  put  down  your  pistol.  This  piece  of  prop- 
erty must  n't  be  damaged.  I  'm  responsible  for  it.  Peek,  you 
imperdent  black  cuss,  drop  that  rib-tickler,  —  drop  it  right 
smart,  or  yer  '11  ketch  hell." 

The  Colonel  advanced,  and  Peek  brought  down  bis  knife  so 
as  to  inflict  on  Charlton's  shoulder  a  gentle  puncture,  which 
drew  from  him  a  cry  of  pain,  followed  by  the  exclamation,  in 
trembling  tones :  "  Keep  off,  keep  off,  Colonel !  Peek  does  n't 
mean  any  harm." 

Iverson  made  an  attempt  to  get  in  the  negro's  rear,  but  a 
shriek  of  remonstrance  from  Charlton  drove  the  officer  back. 

Finding  now  that  he  was  master  of  the  situation.  Peek  let 
his  right  aiTQ  fall  gradually  to  his  side,  and,  still  holding  Charl- 
ton in  his  grasp,  said :  "  Gentlemen,  there  are  just  five  chairs 
before  you.     Be  seated,  and  hear  what  I  have  to  say." 

The  company  looked  hesitatingly  at  one  another,  till  Blake, 
one  of  the  policemen,  said,  "  Why  not  ?  "  and  took  a  seat.  The 
rest  followed  his  example. 

And  then  Peek,  crowding  back  the  rage  and  anguish  of  his 
heart,  spoke  as  follows  :  "  My  name  is  Peculiar  Institution.  I 
came  to  this  law^^er  some  seven  weeks  ago  for  advice.  I  paid 
him  money.  He  got  ine  to  tell  him  my  story.  He  pretended 
to  be  my  friend;  but  thinking  he  could  make  a  few  dollars 
more  out  of  the  slaveholder  than  he  could  out  of  me,  he  sends 
on  word  to  the  man  who  calls  himself  my  master  ;  —  in  short, 
betrays  me.  You  see  I  have  him  in  my  power.  What  would 
you  do  with  him  if  you  were  in  my  place  ?  " 

"  I  'd  cut  off  his  dirty  ears ! "  exclaimed  Blake,  carried  beyond 
all  the  discretion  of  a  policeman  by  his  indignation. 

"  What  do  you  say,  Colonel  Hyde  ?  "  asked  Peek. 

"  Wall,  Peek,  I  don't  car'  what  yer  do  ter  him,  providin'  yer' 
don't  damage  yerself ;  but  I  reckon  yer  'd  better  drop  that  knife 
dam  quick,  and  give  in.  It 's  no  use  tryin'  to  git  off.  We  've 
three  witnesses  here  to  swar  you  're  the  right  man.  The  Yan- 
kees put  through  the  Fugitive  Law  right  smart  now.  Yer 
stand  no  chance." 

"  That 's  all  true.  Colonel,"  replied  Peek,  speaking  as  if  argu- 
ing aloud  to  himself.     "  The  law  was  executed  in  Boston  last 


A  DESCENDANT  OF  THE  CAVALIERS.  65 

week,  where  there  was  n't  half  the  proof  you  have.  To  do  it 
they  had  to  call  out  the  whole  police  force,  but  they  did  it ;  and 
if  such  things  are  done  in  Boston,  we  can't  expect  much  better 
in  New  York.  But  you  see,  Colonel,  with  tliis  knife  in  my 
hand,  I  can  now  do  one  of  two  things  :  I  can  either  kill  this 
man,  or  kill  myself  In  either  case  you  lose.  The  law  hangs 
me  if  I  kill  him,  and  if  I  kill  myself  the  sexton  puts  all  of  me 
he  can  lay  hold  of  under  the  gi*ound.  Now,  Colonel,  if  you 
refuse  my  terms,  I'm  fully  resolved  to  do  one  of  these  two 
things,  —  probably  the  first,  for  I  have  scruples  about  the 
second." 

"  The  cussed  nigger  talks  as  ef  he  was  readin'  from  a  book  !  " 
exclaimed  Hyde,  in  astonishment.  "  Wall,  Peek,  what  tairms 
do  yer  mean?" 

"  You  must  promise  that,  on  my  letting  this  man  go,  you  '11 
allow  me  to  walk  freely  out  of  this  room,  and  go  where  I  please 
unattended,  on  condition  that  I  '11  return  at  five  o'clock  this 
afternoon  and  deliver  myself  up  to  you  to  go  South  vnih.  you 
of  my  own  accord,  without  any  trial  or  bother  of  any  kind." 

The  Colonel  gave  a  furtive  wink  at  the  policeman  Iverson, 
and  replied :  "  Wall,  Peek,  that 's  no  more  nor  fair,  seein'  as 
you  're  sich  a  smart  respectible  nigger.  But  I  reckon  yer  '11  go 
and  stir  up  the  cussed  abolitioners." 

"  1 11  promise,"  returned  Peek,  "  not  to  tell  any  one  what 's 
going  on." 

Hyde  whispered  in  Iverson's  ear,  and  the  latter  nodded 
assent. 

"  Wall,  Peek,"  said  Colonel  Hyde,  "  if  yer  '11  swar,  so  help 
yer  Gawd,  yer  '11  do  as  yer  say,  we  '11  let  yer  go." 

"  Please  write  down  my  words,  sir,"  said  Peek,  addressing 
Blake. 

The  policeman  took  pen  and  paper,  and  wrote,  after  Peek's 
dictation,  as  follows  :  — 

"  We  the  undersigned  swear,  on  our  part,  so  help  us  God, 
we  will  allow  Peculiar  Institution  to  quit  this  room  free  and 
unfollowed,  on  his  promise  that  he  will  return  and  give  himself 
up  at  five  o'clock  this  P.  M.  And  I,  Peculiar  Institution, 
swear,  on  my  part,  so  help  me  God,  I  will,  if  these  terms  are 
carried  out,  fulfil  the  above-named  promise." 

£ 


66  PECULIAR. 

"  Sign  that,  you  five  gentlemen,  and  then  I  '11  sign,"  said 
Peek. 

Tlie  five  signed.  The  paper  and  pen  were  then  handed  to 
Peek,  and  he  added  his  name  in  a  good  legible  hand,  and  gave 
the  paper  to  Blake. 

Having  done  this,  he  pulled  the  rope  from  Charlton's  arais, 
and  threw  it  on  the  floor,  then  returned  liis  knife  to  the  sheath, 
and  picked  up  liis  cap. 

But  as  he  started  for  tlie  door.  Colonel  Hyde  drew  his  revol- 
ver, stood  in  his  way,  and  said :  "  Now,  nigger,  no  more  damn 
nonsense !  Did  yer  think  Delancy  Hyde  was  such  a  simple 
cuss  as  to  trust  yer  ?     Officers,  seize  this  nigger." 

"  Iverson  stepped  forward  to  obey,  but  Blake,  with  the  as- 
sured gesture  of  one  whose  superiority  has  been  felt  and 
admitted,  motioned  him  aside,  and  said  to  Hyde,  "  I  '11  take 
your  revolver." 

The  Colonel,  either  thrown  off  his  guard  by  Blake's  cool 
air  of  authority,  or  supposing  he  wanted  the  weapon  for  the 
purpose  of  overa\\ang  the  negro,  gave  it  up.  Blake  then 
walked  to  the  door,  threw  it  oj)en,  and  said :  "  Peculiar  Insti- 
tution, I  fulfil  my  part  of  the  contract.  Now  go  and  fulfil 
yours ;  and  see  you  don't  come  the  lawyer  over  me  by  break- 
ing your  word." 

Before  Colonel  Delancy  Hyde  could  recover  from  the  amaze- 
ment and  wrath  into  which  he  was  put  by  this  act.  Peculiar 
had  disappeared  from  the  room,  and  Blake,  closing  the  door 
after  him,  had  locked  it,  and  taken  out  the  key  and  thrust  it 
in  his  pocket. 

"  May  I  be  shot,"  exclaimed  the  Colonel,  "  but  this  is  the 
damdest  mean  Yankee  swindle  I  ever  kad  put  on  me  jit,  — 
damned  if  it  ain't !  Here  I  've  been  to  a  hunderd  dollars  ex- 
pense to  git  back  that  ar  nigger,  and  now  I  'm  tricked  out  of 
my  property  by  the  very  man  I  hired  to  help  me  git  it.  This 
is  Yankee  all  thi'ough,  —  damned  if  it  ain't ! " 

Charlton,  still  pale  and  trembling  from  his  recent  shock,  had 
yet  strength  to  put  in  these  words :  "  I  must  say,  Mr.  Blake, 
your  conduct  has  been  unprofessional  and  unhandsome.  There 
is  n't  another  officer  in  the  whole  corps  that  would  have  com- 
mitted such  a  blunder.     I  shall  report  you  to  your  superioi^s." 


A  DESCENDANT  OF  THE  CAVALIERS.  67 

Blake  shook  his  finger  at  him,  and  replied,  "  Open  your  lips 
again,  you  beggarly  hound,  and  I  '11  slap  your  face." 

Charlton  collapsed .  into  silence.  Blake  took  a  chair  and 
said,  "Amuse  yourselves  five  minutes,  gentlemen,  and  then 
I  '11  open  the  door." 

"  A  hell  of  a  feller  fur .  an  officer ! "  muttered  the  Colonel. 
'  "  To  let  the  nigger  slide  in  that  ar  way,  afore  I  'd  ever  a  chance 
to  take  from  him  his  money  and  watch,  which  in  course  owt  to 
go  to  payin'  my  expenses.     Cuss  me  if  I  — " 

"  Silence  ! "  exclaimed  Blake  in  a  voice  of  thunder. 

Cowed  by  the  force  of  a  reckless  and  impulsive  will,  all 
present  now  kept  quiet.  Colonel  Hyde,  who,  deprived  of  his 
revolver,  felt  his  imbecility  keenly,  went  to  the  window  and 
looked  out.  Iverson,  who  was  a  coward,  tried  to  smile,  and 
then,  seeing  the  expression  on  Blake's  face,  looked  suddenly 
grave.  Captain  Skinner  gave  way  to  melancholy  forebodings. 
His  companion.  Biggs,  refreshed  liimself  with  a  quid  of  tobacco, 
and  stood  straddling  and  bracing  himself  on  his  feet  as  if  he 
thought  a  storm  was  brewing,  and  expected  a  lurch  to  leeward 
to  take  him  off  his  legs.  As  for  Charlton,  he  drew  a  slip  of 
paper  toward  him,  and  appeared  to  be  carelessly  figuring  on 
it ;  although,  when  he  thought  Blake  was  not  looking,  his  manner 
changed  to  an  eager  and  anxious  consideration  of  the  matter 
before  him. 

The  five  minutes  had  nearly  expired  when  Blake  rose, 
turned  his  back  to  Charlton,  and  seemed  to  be  lost  in  reverie. 
Charlton  took  this  opportunity  to  hastily  finish  what  he  had 
been  writing.  He  then  enclosed  it  in  an  envelope,  and  directed 
it.  This  done,  he  motioned  to  Iverson,  and  held  up  the  letter. 
The  latter  nodded,  and  pointed  with  a  motion  of  the  thumb  to 
a  newspaper  on  the  table.  Charlton  placed  the  letter  under  it, 
coughed,  and  turned  to  warm  himself  at  the  stove.  Iverson 
sidled  toward  the  newspaper,  but  before  he  could  reach  it, 
Blake  turned  and  dashed  his  fist  on  it,  took  up  the  letter,  and 
whispered  menacingly  to  Charlton,  "  Utter  a  single  word,  and 
I'll  choke  you." 

Then  unlocking  and  opening  the  door,  he  said  to  the  other 
persons  in  the  room,  "  Go !  you  can  return,  if  you  choose,  at  five 
o'clock." 


08  PECULIAR. 

"  Give  me  my  revolver,"  demanded  the  Colonel. 

"  Say  two  words,  and  I  '11  have  you  arrested  for  trying  to 
shoot  an  unarmed  man,"  replied  Blake.* 

The  Colonel  swallowed  his  rage  and  left  the  room,  followed 
by  Iverson  and  the  two  witnesses.  Blake  again  locked  the  door 
and  took  the  key. 

"  'SYhat  's  the  meaning  of  all  this  ?  "  asked  Chai'lton,  serious- 
ly alarmed. 

"  It  means  that  if  you  open  that  traitor's  mouth  of  yours 
till  I  tell  you  to,  you  '11  come  to  grief." 

Charlton  subsided  and  was  silent. 

Blake  unfolded  the  paper  he  had  seized,  and  read  as  follows  : 
"  You  will  probably  find  Peek,  either  at  Bunker's  in  Broadway, 
or  at  his  rooms  in  Green\vich  Street,  the  side  nearest  the  river, 
third  or  fourth  house  from  the  corner  of  Dey  Street." 

Blake  thrust  the  paper  back  into  his  pocket,  and.  wholly  re- 
gardless of  Charlton's  presence,  began  pacing  the   floor. 


THE  UPPER  AND  THE  LOWER  LAW.         69 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  UPPER  AND  THE  LOWER  LAW. 

*'  There  is  a  law  above  all  the  enactments  of  human  codes,  —  the  same  throughout  the 
world,  the  same  in  all  times  :  it  is  the  law  written  by  the  finger  of  God  on  the  heart  of 
man ;  and  by  that  law,  unchangeable  and  eternal,  while  men  despise  fraud  and  loathe 
rapine  and  abhor  bloodshed,  they  will  reject  with  indignation  the  wild  and  guilty  fan- 
tasy than  man  can  hold  property  in  man."  — Lord  Brougham. 

THE  policeman,  Blake,  was  a  Vermonter  whose  grandsire 
had  been  one  of  the  eighty  men  under  Ethan  Allen  at 
the  capture  of  Fort  Ticonderoga.  The  traditions  of  the  Revo- 
lution were  therefore  something  more  than  barren  legends  in 
Blake's  mind.  They  had  inspired  him  with  an  enthusiastic 
admiration  of  the  republic  and  its  institutions.  His  patriotism 
was  a  sentiment  which  all  the  political  and  moral  corruption, 
with  which  a  New  York  policeman  is  inevitably  brought  in 
contact,  could  not  corrode  or  enfeeble. 

Even  slavery,  being  tolerated  by  the  Constitution  of  the 
United  States,  was,  in  his  view,  not  to  be  spoken  of  lightly. 
He  shut  his  eyes  and  his  ears  to  all  that  could  be  said  in  its 
condemnation ;  he  opened  them  to  all  its  palliating  features 
and  facts.  Did  not  statistics  prove  that  the  blacks,  in  a  state 
of  slavery,  increase  in  double  the  proportion  they  do  in  a  state 
of  freedom,  surrounded  by  whites  ?  This  comforting  argument 
was  eagerly  seized  by  Blake  as  a  moral  sedative. 

The  Fugitive-Slave  Law  he  was  satisfied  was  strictly  in 
accordance  with  both  the  spirit  and  the  letter  of  the  Constitu- 
tion of  the  United  States.  Therefore  it  must  be  honestly 
enforced.  The  Abolitionists,  who  were  striving  to  defeat  the 
execution  of  the  law,  were  almost  as  bad  as  Mississippi  repudi- 
ators  who  were  swindling  their  foreign  creditors.  So  long  as  we 
were  enjoying  the  benefits  of  the  Constitution,  was  it  not  mean 
and  dastardly  to  undertake  to  jockey  the  South  out  of  the 
obvious  protection  of  that  clause  in  it  which  has  reference  to 
the  "  person  held  to  service  or  labor,"  which  we  all  knew  to 
mean  the  slave  ? 


70  PECULIAR. 

Considerations  like  these  had  made  Blake  one  of  the  most 
earnest  advocates  of  the  enforcement  of  the  law  among  his 
brethren  of  the  police ;  and  when  at  last  he  was  called  on  to 
carry  it  out  in  the  case  of  Peek,  he  felt  that  obedience  was  a 
duty  which  it  would  be  poltroonery  to  evade.  He  went  forth, 
therefore,  vdih  alacrity  that  morning,  resolved  to  allow  no 
mawkish  sensibility  to  interfere  with  his  obligations  as  an 
officer  and  a  citizen. 

Accompanied  by  Ivei'son,  he  waited  on  Colonel  Delancy 
Hyde  at  the  New  York  Hotel.  They  found  that  worthy  in 
the  smoking-room,  seated  at  a  small  marble  table,  with  a  cigar 
in  his  mouth  and  an  emptied  tumbler,  which  smelt  strongly 
of  undiluted  wliiskey,  before  him.  The  Colonel  graciously 
asked  the  officers  to  "liquor."  Ivei*son  assented,  but  Blake 
declined. 

A  refusal  to  "  liquor,"  the  Colonel  had  been  bred  to  regard 
as  a  personal  indignity  ;  and  so,  turning  to  Blake,  he  said  : 
"  Look  here,  stranger !  I  'm  Colonel  Delancy  Hyde.  Virginia- 
born,  be  Gawd !  From  one  of  the  oldest  families  in  the  St^ite ! 
None  of  yer  interloping  Yankee  scum !  No  Puritan  blood  in 
me  /  My  almcestor  was  one  of  the  cavalyers.  My  father  was 
one  of  the  largest  slave-owners  in  the  State.  Now  if  yer 
want  to  put  an  affront  on  me,  I  'd  jest  have  yer  understand 
fust  who  yer've  got  to   deal  with." 

"  Bah  !  "  said  Blake,  turning  on  his  heel,  and  walking  to  the 
window. 

Iverson,  who  di'eaded  a  scene,  smoothed  over  the  affront 
^vith  a  lie.  "  The  fact  is.  Colonel,"  whispered  he,  "  Blake 
would  n't  be  fit  for  duty  if  he  were  to  drink  with  us.  A  spoon- 
ful upsets  him ;  but  he 's  ashamed  to  confess  it.  A  weak  head ! 
You  understand?" 

The  explanation  pacified  the  Colonel.  Indeed,  his  sympa* 
thies  were  at  once  wakened  for  the  unhappy  man  who  couldn't 
di'ink.  This  representative  of  the  interests  of  slavery  certainly 
did  not  prepossess  Blake  in  favor  of  his  mission ;  but  justice 
must  be  done,  notwithstanding  the  character  of  the  claimant. 

An  addition  was  now  made  to  the  circle.  Captain  Sldnner 
and  Biggs,  the  sailor  already  mentioned,  —  a  short,  thick-set 
stump  of  a  man,  with  only  one  eye,  and  that  black  and  over- 


THE  UPPER  AND  THE  LOWER  LAW.         71 

arched  by  a  bushy,  gray  eyebrow,  —  a  very  wicked-looking  old 
fellow,  —  entered  and  made  themselves  known  to  the  Colonel. 
They  had  come  up  from  New  London,  to  serve  as  witnesses. 
As  a  matter  of  policy,  the  Colonel  could  not  do  less  than  ask 
them  to  join  in  the  raid  on  the  wliiskey  decanter ;  and  this 
they  did  so  effectually  that  the  last  drop  disappeared  in  Biggs's 
capacious  tumbler. 

As  it  was  not  yet  time  for  the  appointment  at  Charlton's 
office,  the  party,  aU  but  Blake,  took  chairs  and  lighted  cigars, 
and  the  Colonel  asked  Captain  Skinner  to  narrate  the  circum- 
stances of  Peek's  appearance  on  board  the  Albatross. 

"  Well,  you  see.  Colonel,"  said  Skinner,  "  we  had  been  ten 
days  out,  when  one  night  the  second  mate,  as  he  was  poking 
about  between  decks,  caught  a  strange  nigger  creeping  into  a 
cotton-bale  just  for'ard  of  the  store-room.  We  ordered  the 
nigger  out,  and  he  came  into  the  cabin,  and  pretended  to  be  a 
free  nigger,  and  said  he  'd  pay  his  passage  as  soon  as  he  could 
git  work  in  New  York.  In  course  I  knew  he  was  lyin',  but 
I  did  n't  let  on  that  I  suspected  him.  I  played  smooth ;  and 
cuss  me,  if  the  nigger  did  n't  play  smooth  too  ;  for  he  made  as 
if  he  believed  me  ;  and  so  when  we  got  to  New  London,  afore 
I  could  git  the  officers  on  board,  he  jumped  into  the  water  and 
swam  to  old  Payson's  boat,  and  Payson  he  got  him  on  board 
one  of  the  Sound  steamers,  and  had  him  put  through  to  New 
York  that  same  night.  The  next  day  Payson  attakted  me  in 
the  street,  knocked  me  down,  and  stamped  on  me,  and  afore 
I  could  have  him  tuk  up,  he  was  on  board  that  infernal  boat  of 
his,  and  off  out  of  sight.  There 's  the  scar  of  the  gash  Payson 
left  on  my  skull." 

Blake,  at  these  words,  left  the  window,  and  came  and  looked 
at  the  scar  with  evident  satisfaction.  Colonel  Hyde,  with  a 
lordly  air  of  patronage,  held  out  his  hand  to  Skinner,  and  said : 
''  Capting,  the  scar  is  an  honor.  Capting,  yer  hand.  I  love  to 
meet  a  high-tone  gemmleman,  and  you  're  one.  Capting,  aUow 
me  to  shake  yer  hand." 

"  With  pleasure,"  said  Biggs,  taking  the  Colonel's  hand  and 
shaking  it  in  his  own  big,  coarsely-seamed  flipper,  before  the 
Captain  had  a  chance  to  reach  out.  The  Colonel  smiled  grim- 
ly at  Biggs's  playfulness,  but  said  nothing. 


72  PECULIAR. 

"  Come !  it 's  time  to  go,"  exclaimed  Ivei-son,  looking  at  his 
watch.  The  party  rose,  and  proceeded  do^\^l  Broadway  to 
Charlton's  office.  We  have  already  seen  what  transpired  on 
their  arrival.  Our  business  is  now  with  what  happened  after 
their  departure. 

Three  o'clock  struck.  The  small  liand  on  the  dial  of  Trinity 
was  fast  mo^-ing  toward  four ;  and  still  Blake  paced  the  floor  in 
Charlton's  office.  Every  now  and  then  there  would  be  a  knock 
at  the  door,  and  Blake,  with  a  menacing  shake  of  his  head, 
would  impose  silence  on  the  conveyancer,  till  the  applicant  for 
admission,  tired  of  knocking,  would  go  away. 

Blake's  thoughts  were  in  the  condition  of  a  chopping  sea 
where  wind  and  tide  are  opposing-each  other.  Reflections  that 
reached  to  the  very  foundation  of  human  society  —  questions 
of  abstract  right  and  wrong  —  were  combating  old  notions 
adopted  on  the  authority  of  others,  and  as  yet  untested  in  the 
cupel  of  his  own  conscience. 

Brought  for  the  fii*st  time  face  to  face  with  the  law  for  the 
rendition  of  fugitive  slaves,  —  encountering  it  in  its  practical 
operation,  —  he  found  -in  it  a  barbarous  necessity  from  which 
his  heart  recoiled  with  horror  and  disgust.  Must  he  disregard 
that  pleading  cry  of  conscience,  that  voice  of  God  and  Christ 
in  his  soul,  calling  on  him  to  do  in  righteousness  unto  others  as 
he  would  have  them  do  unto  him  ?  Could  any  human  enact- 
ment exempt  him  from  that  pai'amount  obedience  ? 

How  had  he  felt  dwarfed  in  another's  presence  that  day ! 
He  had  seen  a  man,  and  that  man  a  negro,  putting  forth  his 
manhood  in  the  best  way  he  could  to  parry  the  arm  of  a  savage 
oppression,  doubly  fiendish  in  its  mockery,  coming  as  it  did 
under  the  respectable  escort  of  the  law.  Surely  the  negi'o 
showed  himself  better  worthy  of  freedom  than  any  white  man 
among  his  hunters. 

Would  the  fellow  keep  his  pledge  ?  Would  he  come  back  ? 
Blake  now  earnestly  hoped  he  would  not.  Was  not  any  strat- 
agem justifiable  in  such  a  case  ?  Should  we  mind  resorting  to 
deception  in  order  to  rescue  ourselves  or  another  fr-om  a  mad- 
man or  a  murderer  ?  Why,  then,  might  not  Peek  violate  his 
written  promise,  made  as  it  was  to  men  who  were  trying  to  rob 
him  of  a  freedom  more  precious  than  life  to  such  a  soul  as  his  .'* 


THE  UPPER  AND  THE  LOWER  LAW.         73 

But  had  not  lie  himself —  he,  Blake  —  made  use  of  his  poor 
show  of  generosity  to  impress  it  on  Peek  that  he  must  prove 
worthy  the  trust  reposed  in  him  ?  This  recollection  brought 
bitter  regret  to  the  policeman.  Listead  of  encouraging  the 
negro  to  escape,  he  had  put  scruples  of  conscience  or  of  gen- 
erosity in  his  way,  which  might  induce  him  to  return.  Would 
Blake  have  done  so  to  his  own  brother,  under  similar  circum- 
stances ?  Would  he  not  have  bidden  him  cheat  his  persecu- 
tors, and  make  good  his  flight  ?  Assuredly  yes  !  And  yet  to 
the  poor  negro  he  had  practically  said,  Return ! 

These  reflections  wrought  powerfully  upon  Blake.  Why  not 
run  and  urge  the  negro  to  escape  ?  It  was  still  more  than  an 
hour  to  five  o'clock.     Yes,  he  would  do  it! 

Then  came  a  consideration  to  check  the  impulse.  He,  a 
sworn  officer  of  the  law,  should  he  lend  himself  to  the  defeat  of 
the  very  law  he  had  taken  it  upon  himself  to  execute  ?  Was 
there  not  something  intensely  dishonest  in  such  a  course? 

Well,  he  could  do  one  thing  at  least :  he  could  resign  his 
office,  and  then  try  to  undo  the  mischief  he  had  perhaps  done 
the  negro  by  his  injunction.     Yes,  he  woidd  do  that. 

Impulsive  in  all  his  movements,  Blake  looked  at  his  watch, 
and  found  he  would  have  just  an  hour  in  which  to  crowd  all 
the  action  he  proposed  to  himself  Turning  to  Charlton,  he 
said :  "  Your  conduct  to  this  runaway  slave  Avill  make  your  life 
insecure  if  I  choose  to  go  to  certain  men  in  this  city  and  teU 
them  what  I  can  with  truth.  What  you  now  are  intending  to 
do  is  to  have  the  slave  intercepted.  I  don't  ask  you  to  prom- 
ise, simply  because  you  will  lie  if  you  think  it  safe ;  but  I 
say  this  to  you :  K  I  find  that  any  measures  are  taken  before 
five  o'clock  to  catch  the  slave,  I  shall  hold  you  responsible  for 
them,  and  shall  expose  you  to  parties  who  will  see  you  are 
paid  back  for  your  rascality.  Take  no  step  for  an  arrest,  and  I 
hold  my  tongue." 

Glad  of  such  a  compromise,  Charlton  replied  :  "  I  'm  agreed. 
Up  to  five  o'clock  I  '11  do  nothing,  directly  or  indirectly,  to 
intercept  the  nigger." 

Blake  was  speedily  in  the  street  after  this.  He  hurried  to 
the  City  Hall,  found  the  Chief  of  Police,  gave  in  his  resig- 
nation, deposited  Colonel  Hyde's  pistol  among  the  curiosi- 
4 


74  PFXULIAR. 

ties  of  the  room,  and  said  that  another  man  must  be  found  to 
attend  to  the  case  at  Charlton's  office.  Having  in  this  way 
eased  his  conscience,  Bkike  ran  as  far  as  Broadway,  and 
jumped  into  an  omnibus.  But  the  omnibus  was  too  slow,  so  he 
jumped  out  and  ran  domi  Broadway  to  Bunker's.  How  the 
precious  time  flew  by !  Before  he  could  be  satisfied  at  Bunk- 
er's that  Peek  was  not  there,  the  clock  indicated  five  minutes 
of  five.  He  rushed  out  in  the  direction  of  tlie  slave's  lodgings. 
An  old  woman  with  wrinkled  face,  and  bent  form,  and  carrying 
a  broom,  was  showing  the  apartments  to  an  applicant  who 
thought  of  moving  from  the  story  below.  Where  were  the 
negro  and  his  wife  ?  Gone  !  How  long  ago  ?  More  than  two 
hours  !     The  clock  struck  five. 

Wholly  disheartened,  Blake  ran  back  to  Charlton's  office. 
He  found  it  locked.  No  one  answered  to  his  knock.  Raising 
his  foot  he  kicked  open  the  door  with  a  single  effiDrt.  The 
office  was  deserted.  No  one  there!  He  ran  to  the  Jersey 
City  ferry-boat  that  carries  passengers  for  the  Philadelphia 
cars ;  it  had  left  the  wharf  some  twenty  minutes  before. 
Baffled  in  all  directions,  he  took  his  way  to  the  police-station  to 
find  Iverson  ;  but  that  officer  was  on  duty,  nobody  knew  where. 
After  waiting  at  the  station  till  nearly  midnight,  Blake  at  last, 
woni  out  with  discouragement  and  fatigue,  went  home. 

What  had  become  of  Peek  all  this  time  ? 

Anticipating  that  he  and  his  wife  might  at  any  moment  find  it 
prudent  to  leave  for  Canada  at  half  an  home's  notice.  Peek  had 
always  kept  his  affairs  in  a  state  to  enable  him  to  do  this  con- 
veniently. He  had  hired  his  rooms,  furniture,  and  piano-forte 
by  the  week,  paying  for  them  in  advance.  Two  small  trunks 
were  sufficient  to  contain  all  his  movable  property ;  and  these 
might  be  packed  in  five  minutes. 

Flora,  his  wife,  who  like  Peek  was  of  unmixed  blood,  had 
been  lady's  maid  in  a  family  in  Vicksbui-g.  Here  she  had  be- 
come an  expert  in  washing  and  doing  up  muslins  and  other  fine 
articles  of  female  attii-e.  But  the  lady  she  served  died,  and 
Flora  became  the  property  of  ^h\  Penfield,  a  planter,  who, 
looking  on  her  with  the  eyes  that  a  cattle-breeder  might  tm-n 
on  a  Durham  cow,  ordered  her  to  marry  one  Bully  Bill,  a  lusty 
African  w^ith  a  neck  like  the  cylinder  of  a  steam-engine.     Flora 


THE  UPPER  AND  THE  LOWER  LAW.         75 

objected,  ai  d  learning  that  her  objections  would  not  be  respected, 
she  ran  away,  and  after  various  fortunes  settled  at  Montreal. 
Here  she  married  Peek,  who  taught  her  to  read  and  write. 
She  had  been  bred  a  pious  Catholic,  and  Peek,  finding  that 
they  agreed  in  the  essentials  of  a  devout  and  believing  heart, 
never  imdertook  to  disturb  her  faith. 

They  moved  to  New  York,  and  Peek  with  his  wages  as 
waiter,  and  Flora  with  the  money  she  got  for  doing  up  muslins, 
earned  jointly  an  income  which  placed  them  far  above  want  in 
the  region  of  absolute  comfort  and  partial  refinement.  Few 
more  happy  and  loyal  couples  could  have  been  found  even  in 
freestone  palaces  on  the  Fifth  Avenue. 

"  Well,  Flora,  how  long  will  it  take  you  to  get  ready  ?  "  said 
Peek,  entering  the  neat  little  kitchen,  where  she  was  at  work 
at  her  ironing-board,  while  little  Sterling  sat  amusing  himself 
on  the  floor  in  building  a  house  with  small  wooden  bricks. 

Flora,  at  once  comprehending  the  intent  of  the  question,  re- 
plied, "  I  sha'n't  want  more  'n  half  an  hour." 

"  WeU,  a  boat  leaves  for  Albany  at  five,"  said  Peek,  taking 
the  Sun  newspaper,  and  cutting  out  an  advertisement.  "  We  'd 
better  quit  here,  and  go  on  board  just  as  soon  as  we  can." 

"  Le  'm  me  see,"  said  Flora,  meditatively.  "  The  grocer  at 
the  corner  will  send  round  these  muslins,  'specially  if  we  pay 
him  for  it.  My  customers  owe  me  twenty  dollars,  —  how  shall 
we  collek  that?" 

"You  can  write  to  them  from  Montreal." 

"  Lor  !  so  I  can.  Peek.     Who  'd  have  thought  of  it  but  you  ?  " 

"  Come,  then !  Be  lively.  Tumble  the  things  into  the 
tninks.  We  '11  give  poor  old  Petticum  the  odds  and  ends  we 
leave  behind ;  and  she  '11  notify  the  landlord,  and  take  care  of 
the  rooms." 

In  less  than  an  hour's  time  they  had  made  all  their  prepara- 
tions, and  were  all  three  in  a  coach  with  their  luggage,  rattling 
up  Greenwich  Street  towards  one  of  the  Twenties.  Here  they 
went  on  board  an  old  steamer,  recently  taken  from  the  regular 
line  for  freighting  purposes,  and  carrying  only  a  few  passengers. 
Having  seen  Flora  and  Sterling  safely  bestowed  with  the  lug- 
gage, and  given  the  former  his  watch  and  all  his  money,  except 
a  dollar  in  change,  Peek  said :  "  Now,  Flora,  I  've  got  to  go 


76  PECULIAR. 

ashore  on  business.  If  I  shouldn't  be  here  when  the  boat 
starts,  do  you  keep  straight  on  to  Montreal  without  me.  Go  to 
the  post-office  i-egiilarly  t^A^ce  a  week  to  see  if  there  's  a  letter 
for  you." 

"  What  is  it,  Peek  ?  Tell  me  all  about  it,"*  said  Flora,  who 
painfully  felt  there  was  a  secret  which  her  husband  did  not 
choose  to  disclose. 

"  Now,  Floi^,  don't  be  silly,^  replied  Peek,  wiping  the  tears 
from  her  face  with  his  handkerchief  "  I  tell  you,  I  may  be 
aboard  again  before  you  stai-t,  —  have  n't  made  up  my  mind  yet, 
—  only,  if  you  shouldn't  see  me,  never  you  mind,  but  just 
keep  on.  Find  out  your  old  customers  in  Montreal,  and  wait 
patiently  till  I  join  you.  So  don't  cry  about  it.  The  Lord 
will  take  care  of  it  all.  Here 's  a  handbill  that  tells  you  the 
best  way  to  get  to  Montreal.  Look  out  for  pickpockets.  I 
should  n't  leave  you  if  I  did  n't  have  to.  Flora.  I  '11  tell  you 
everything  about  it  when  we  meet.     So  good  by." 

Having  no  suspicion  of  the  actual  cause  of  Peek's  leaving 
her,  and  confident,  thi-ough  faith  in  him,  that  it  must  be  for  a 
right  pui'pose,  Flora  cheered  up,  and  said:  "Well,  Peek,  I 
*spec  you  've  got  some  little  debts  to  pay ;  but  do  come  back 
to-day  if  you  can;  and  keep  clar'  of  the  hounds,  Peek, — 
keep  clar'  of  the  hounds." 

And  so,  kissing  wife  and  child,  with  an  ovei*flowing  heart 
Peek  quitted  the  boat.  He  did  not  at  once  leave  the  vicinity. 
There  was  a  pile  of  fresh  lumber  not  far  off.  Dodging  out 
of  sight  behind  it,  and  then  sitting  down  in  a  little  enclosure 
foi-m^d  by  the  boards,  where  he  could  see  the  boat  and  not  be 
seen,  he  tried  to  orient  his  conscience  as  to  his  duty  under  the 
extraordinary  circumstances  in  which  he  found  himself. 

Go  back  to  the  life  of  a  slave  ?  Leave  wife  and  child,  and 
return  to  bondage,  degradation,  subordination  to  another's  will  ? 
He  looked  out  on  the  beautiful  river,  flashing  in  the  warm 
spring  sunshine ;  to  the  opposite  shore  of  Hoboken,  where  he 
and  Flora  used  to  stroll  on  Sundays  last  summer,  dragging 
Sterling  in  his  little  carriage.  Was  there  to  be  no  more  of 
that  pleasant  independent  life? 

A  slave?  Liable  to  be  kicked,  cuffed,  spit  on,  fettered, 
scourged  by  such  a  creature  as  Colonel  Delancy  Hyde  ?     No  I 


THE  UPPER  AND  THE  LOWER  LAW.         77 

To  escape  the  pursuing  fiends  who  would  force  such  a  lot  on 
an  innocent  human  being,  surely  any  subterfuge,  any  stratagem, 
any  lie,  would  be  justifiable ! 

And  Peek  thought  of  the  joy  that  Flora  would  feel  at  seeing 
him  return,  and  he  rose  to  go  back  to  the  boat. 

A  single  thought  drew  him  back  to  his  covert.  "  So  help 
me  God."  Had  he  not  pledged  himself,  —  pledged  himself  in 
sincerity  at  the  moment  in  those  words  ?  Had  he  not  by  his 
act  promised  Blake,  who  had  befriended  him,  that  he  would 
return,  and  might  not  Blake  lose  his  situation  if  the  promise 
were  broken? 

As  Peek  found  conscience  getting  the  better  of  inclination  in 
the  dispute,  he  bowed  his  head  in  his  hands,  and  wept  sobbingly 
like  a  child.  Such  anguish  was  there  in  the  thought  of  a  sur- 
render !  Then,  extending  himself  prostrate  on  the  boards,  his 
face  down,  and  resting  on  his  arms,  he  strove  to  shut  out 
all  except  the  voice  of  God  in  his  soul.  He  uttered  no  word, 
but  he  felt  the  mastery  of  a  great  desire,  and  that  was  for 
guidance  from  above.  Tender  thoughtt  of  the  sufferings  and 
wants  of  the  poor  slaves  he  had  left  on  Barnwell's  plantation 
stole  back  to  him.  Would  he  not  like  to  see  them  and  be 
of  service  to  them  once  more  ?  What  if  he  should  be  whipped, 
imprisoned?  Could  he  not  brave  all  such  risks,  for  the 
satisfaction  of  keeping  a  pledge  made  to  a  man  who  had  shown 
him  kindness  ?  And  he  recalled  the  words,  once  spoken  through 
Corinna,  "  Not  to  be  happy,  but  to  deserve  happiness." 

Besides,  might  he  not  again  escape  ?  Yes  !  He  would  go 
back  to  Charlton's  office.  He  would  surrender  himself  as  he 
had  promised.  The  words  which  Colonel  Hyde  had  conceived 
to  be  of  no  more  binding  force  than  a  wreath  of  tobacco-smoke 
were  the  chain  stronger  than  steel  that  drew  the  negro  back  to 
the  fulfilment  of  his  pledge.  "  So  help  me  God !  "  Could  he 
profane  those  words,  and  ever  look  up  again  to  Heaven  for 
succor  ? 

And  so  he  rose,  took  one  despairing  look  at  the  boat,  where 
he  could  see  Flora  pointing  out  to  her  little  boy  the  wonders  of 
the  river,  and  then  rushed  away  in  the  direction  of  Broadway. 
There  was  no  lack  of  omnibuses,  but  no  friendly  driver  would 
give  him  a  seat  on  top,  and  he  was  excluded  by  social  preju- 


/8  PECULIAR. 

dice  from  the  inside.  It  was  twenty  minutes  to  five  when 
he  reached  Union  Park.  Thence  running  all  the  way  in  the 
middle  of  the  street  with  the  carriages,  he  reached  Charlton's 
office  before  the  clock  had  finished  striking  the  hour. 

There  had  been  wrangling  and  high  words  just  before  his 
entrance.  Colonel  Delancy  Hyde  was  ejecting  his  wrath 
against  the  universal  Yankee  nation  in  the  choicest  terms  of 
vituperation  that  his  limited  vocabulary  could  supply.  The 
loss  of  both  liis  nigger  and  his  revolver  had  been  too  much  for 
his  equanimity.  Captain  Skinner  and  his  companion,  Biggs, 
were  sturdily  demanding  their  fees,  which  did  not  seem  to  be 
forthcoming.  Charlton,  in  abject  grief  of  heart,  was  silently 
lamenting  the  loss  of  his  fifty  dollars,  forfeited  by  the  non-de- 
livery of  the  slave  ;  and  Iverson,  the  policeman,  was  delicately 
insinuating  in  the  ear  of  the  lawyer  that  he  should  look  to  him 
for  his  pay. 

Peek,  entering  in  this  knotty  condition  of  affairs,  was  the 
Deus  ex  machina  to  disentangle  the  complication  and  set  the 
wheels  smootlily  in  motion.  No  one  believed  he  would  come 
back,  and  there  issued  from  the  lips  of  all  an  exclamation  of 
surprise,  not  unseasoned  with  oaths  to  suit  the  several  tastes. 

"  Cuss  me  if  here  ain't  the  nigger  himself  come  back ! "  ex- 
claimed the  Colonel.  "  "Wall,  Peek,  I  did  n't  reckon  you  was 
gwine  to  keep  yer  word,  and  it  made  me  swar  some  to  see  how 
I  'd  been  chiselled  fust  out  of  my  revolver  and  then  out  of  my 
nigger,  by  a  damned  Yankee  policeman.  But  here  you  air, 
and  we  '11  fix  things  right  off,  so  's  to  be  ready  for  the  next 
Philadelphy  train,  if  so  be  yer  '11  go  without  any  fuss." 

"  Yes,  I  '11  go.  Colonel,"  said  Peek,  "  but  you  11  have  an 
officer  to  see  I  don't  escape  from  the  cars." 

"  Thar 's  seventy-five  dollars  expense,  blast  yer !  "  exclaimed 
the  Colonel.  "  Yes,  be  Gawd !  I  've  got  to  pay  this  man  for 
gom'  to  Cincinnati  and  back.  O,  but  old  Hawks  ^\all  take  your 
damned  hide  off  when  we  git  you  back  in  Texas,  —  sure  !  " 

Peek,  to  serve  some  purpose  of  his  own,  here  dropped  his 
dignity  entirely,  and  assumed  the  manner  and  language  of  the 
careless,  rollicking  plantation  nigger.  "Yah!  yah  I"  laughed 
he.  "  Wall,  look  a-he-ah,  Kunnle  Delancy  Hyde.  Les  make  a 
trade,  —  we  two,  —  and  git  rid  of  the  policeman  altogedder.    I 


THE  UPPER  AND  THE  LOWER  LAW.         79 

can  sabe  yer  fifty  dollars,  shoo-er-r-r,  Kunnle  Delancy  Hyde,  if 
you  '11  do  as  how  dis  nigger  tells  yer  to." 

"  How  '11  yer  do  it,  Peek  ?  "  asked  the  Colonel,  much  pacified 
by  the  slave's  repetition  of  his  entire  name  and  title. 

"  I  '11  promise  to  be  a  good  nigger  all  the  way  to  Cincinnati, 
and  not  try  to  run  away,  —  no,  not  wunst,  —  if  you  '11  pay  me 
twenty-five  dollars." 

"  Will  yer  sign  to  that.  Peek,  and  put  in,  '  So  help  me 
Gawd '  ?  "  asked  the  Colonel. 

Peek  started,  and  looked  sharply  at  Hyde  ;  and  then  quietly 
replied,  "  Yes,  I  '11  do  it,  if  you  '11  gib  me  the  money  to  do  with 
as  I  choose  ;  but  you  must  agree  to  le  'm  me  write  a  letter,  and 
put  it  in  the  post-office  afore  we  leeb." 

The  Colonel  considered  the  matter  a  moment,  then  turned 
to  Charlton,  and  said,  "  Draw  up  an  agreement,  and  let  the 
nigger  sign  it,  and  be  sure  and  put  in,  '  So  help  me  Gawd.' " 

The  arrangement  was  speedily  concluded.  The  witnesses 
and  the  officers  were  paid  off.  Charlton  received  his  fifty 
dollars  and  Peek  his  twenty-five.  The  slave  then  asked  for 
pen,  ink,  and  paper,  and  placed  five  cents  on  the  table  as  pay- 
ment. In  two  minutes  he  finished  a  letter  to  Flora,  and 
enclosed  it  with  the  money  in  an  envelope,  on  which  he  wrote 
an  address.  Charlton  tried  hard  to  get  a  sight  of  it,  but  Peek 
did  not  give  him  a  chance  to  do  this. 

The  Colonel  and  Peek  then  walked  to  the  post-office,  where 
the  slave  deposited  his  letter ;  after  which  they  passed  over  to 
Jersey  City  in  the  ferry-boat,  and  took  the  train  to  Philadel- 
phia. 

As  for  Charlton,  no  sooner  had  his  company  left  him,  than 
he  seized  his  hat,  locked  up  his  office,  and  hurried  to  Green- 
wich Street,  where  he  proceeded  to  examine  the  lodgings 
vacated  by  Peek.  He  found  Mrs.  Petticum  engaged  in  col- 
lecting into  baskets  the  various  articles  abandoned  to  her  by 
the  negroes,  —  old  dusters,  a  hod  of  charcoal,  kindling-wood, 
loaves  of  bread,  and  small  collections  of  oroceries,  sufficient  for 
the  family  for  a  week.  Mrs.  Petticum  appeared  to  have  been 
weeping,  for  she  raised  her  apron  and  wiped  her  eyes  as  Charl- 
ton came  in. 

"  Well,  have  they  gone  ?  "  asked  he. 


80  PKCULIAR. 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  the  wuss  for  me !  "  said  the  old  woman. 

Charlton  took  his  cue  at  once,  and  replied :  "  They  were 
excellent  people,  and  I  'm  sorry  they  've  gone.  What  was  the 
matter  ?     Were  the  slave-catchers  after  them  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  sighed  Petticum  ;  "  I  should  n't  wonder. 
Poor  Flora!  That  was  all  she  worried  about.  I'd  like  to 
have  got  my  hands  in  the  hair  of  the  man  that  would  have 
carried  her  off.  Where  '11  you  find  the  white  folks  better  and 
decenter  than  they  was  ?  " 

"  Not  in  Xew  York,  ma'am,"  said  Charlton,  stealthily  look- 
ing about  the  room,  examining  every  ai'ticle  of  furniture,  and 
opening  the  drawers. 

"  The  furniture  belongs  to  Mr.  Craig ;  but  all  in  the  drawers 
is  mine,"  said  the  old  woman,  not  favorably  impressed  by  Charl- 
ton's inquisitiveness. 

"  0,  it 's  all  right,"  replied  Charlton  ;  "  I  did  n't  know  but  I 
could  be  of  some  help.     You  've  no  idea  where  they  went  to  ?  " 

"  They  did  n't  tell  me,  and  if  I  knowed,  I  should  n't  tell  you, 
without  I  knowed  they  wanted  me  to." 

"  O,  it 's  no  sort  of  consequence.  I  'm  a  particular  friend, 
that's  aU,"  said  Charlton.  "Did  you  notice  the  carriage 
they  went  off  in  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  did." 

"  Could  you  teU  me  the  number  ?  " 

"  No,  I  could  n't." 

Seeing  an  old  handkerchief  in  one  of  the  baskets,  Charlton 
took  it  out,  and  looked  at  the  mark.  He  could  get  nothing 
fi'om  that ;  so  he  threw  it  back.  An  old  shoe  lay  swept  in  a 
comer.  He  took  it  up.  Stamped  on  the  inner  sole  were  the 
words,  "J.  Darling,  Ladies'  Shoes,  Vicksburg."  Charlton 
copied  the  inscription  in  his  memorandum-book  before  putting 
the  shoe  back  where  he  had  found  it.  The  Sun  newspaper 
lay  on  the  floor.  Taking  it  up,  he  found  that  an  advertise- 
ment had  been  cut  out.  Selecting  an  opportunity  when  jMi-s. 
Petticum  was  not  looking,  he  thrust  the  paper  in  his  pocket. 

And  then,  after  examining  an  old  stove-funnel,  he  went  out. 

"  He 's  no  gentleman,  anyhow,"  said  Mrs.  Petticum ;  "  and 
I  don't  believe  he  ever  was  a  friend  of  the  Jacobses." 


GROUPS  ON  THE  DECK.  81 


CHAPTER    X. 

GROUPS  ON  THE  DECK. 

"  Incredulity  is  but  Credulity  seen  from  behind,  bowing  and  nodding  assent  to  the 
Habitual  and  the  Fashionable."  —  Coleridge. 

THE  Pontiac  had  passed  New  Madrid  on  the  Mississippi. 
She  was  advertised  as  a  first-class  high-pressure  boat, 
bound  to  beat  any  other  on  the  river  in  the  long  run,  but  with 
a  captain  and  officers  who  were  "  teetotalers,"  and  never  raced. 

The  weather  had  been  stormy  for  several  days  ;  but  it  was 
now  a  delightful  April  forenoon.  The  sun-bright  atmosphere 
was  at  once  fresh  and  soft,  exhilarating  and  luxurious,  in  a 
combination  one  rarely  enjoys  so  fully  as  on  a  Western  prairie. 
The  delicate  spring  tracery  of  the  foliage  was  fast  expanding 
into  a  richer  exuberance  on  either  bank  of  the  great  river. 
The  dogwood,  with  its  blossoms  of  an  alabaster  whiteness,  here 
and  there  gleamed  forth  amid  the  tender  green  of  the  sur- 
rounding trees,  —  maples,  sycamores,  and  oaks.  All  at  once  a 
magnoUa  sent  forth  a  gush  of  fragrance  from  its  snowy  flowers. 
With  every  mile  southward  the  verdure  grew  thicker  and  the 
blossoms  larger. 

Two  miles  in  the  rear  of  the  Pontiac,  ploughing  up  the 
tawny  waters  with  her  sharp  and  pointed  beak,  came  the 
Champion,  a  new  boat,  and  destined,  as  many,  believed,  to 
prove  the  fastest  on  the  river.  Whatever  her  capacities,  she 
had  thus  far  shown  herself  inferior  to  the  Pontiac  in  speed. 
She  kept  within  two  or  three  miles,  but  failed  to  get  much 
nearer.  Captain  Crane  of  the  Pontiac,  a  small,  thin,  wiry  man, 
who  had  acquired  a  great  reputation  for  sagacity  by  always 
holding  his  tongue,  kept  puffing  away  at  a  cigar,  looking  now 
and  then  anxiously  at  his  rival,  but  evidently  happy  in  the 
assurance  of  victory. 

The  passengers  of  the  Pontiac  were  distributed  in  groups  about 
different  parts  of  the  boat.     Some  were  in  the  cabin  playing  at 

4*  F 


82  PECULIAR. 

euchre  or  brag.  Some,  regardless  of  the  delicious  atmosphere 
which  they  could  drink  in  without  money  and  without  price, 
were  imbibing  fiery  liquors  at  the  bar,  or  pufiing  away  at  bad 
cigars  on  the  forward  part  of  the  lower  deck.  A  few  were 
reading,  and  here  and  there  a  lady  might  be  seen  busy  with 
her  needle. 

On  the  hurricane  deck  were  those  who  had  come  up  for  con- 
versation or  a  promenade.  Smokers  were  requested  to  keep 
below.  The  groups  here  were  rather  more  select  and  less 
numerous  than  on  the  main  deck.  They  were  mostly  gathered 
aft,  so  that  the  few  promenaders  could  have  a  clear  space. 

Among  these  last  were  a  lady  and  two  gentlemen,  one 
on  either  side  of  her ;  the  younger,  a  man  apparently  about 
thirty-two,  of  middle  height,  finely  formed,  handsome,  and  with 
the  quiet,  unarrogating  air  of  one  whose  nobility  is  a  part  of  his 
nature,  not  a  question  of  convention.  (The  snob's  nonchalance 
is  always  spurious.  He  hopes  to  make  you  think  he  is  uncon- 
scious of  your  existence,  and  all  the  while  is  anxiously  trj-ing 
to  dazzle  or  stun  you  by  his  appearance.) 

The  other  gentleman  was  also  one  to  whom  that  much- 
abused  name  would  be  unhesitatingly  applied.  He  seemed  to 
be  about  fifty-five,  with  a  person  approaching  the  portly,  digni- 
fied, gray-haired,  and  his  face  indicating  benevolence  and  self- 
control. 

The  lady,  who  appeared  to  be  the  wife  of  the  younger  man, 
was  half  a  head  shorter  than  he,  and  a  model  of  delicate 
beauty  in  union  with  high  health.  Personally  of  a  figure  and 
carriage  which  Ai't  and  Grace  could  hardly  improve,  she  was 
dressed  in  a  simple  gray  travelling-habit,  with  a  velvet  hat  and 
ostrich-plumes  of  the  same  color.  But  she  had  the  rare  skill 
of  making  simplicity  a  charm.  Flounces,  jewels,  and  laces 
would  have  been  an  impertinence.  While  she  conversed,  she 
seemed  to  take  a  special  interest  in  a  gi'oup  that  occupied  two 
"  patent  life-preserving  stools  "  near  the  centre  of  the  deck.  A 
young  boy  held  in  his  lap  a  little  girl,  seemingly  not  more  than 
two  years  old,  and  pointed  out  pictures  to  her  from  a  book, 
while  a  mulatto  woman,  addressed  as  Hattie,  who  appeared  to 
have  the  infant  in  chai'ge,  joined  in  their  juvenile  prattle,  and 
placed  her  arm  so  as  to  assist  the  boy  in  securing  his  hold. 


GROUPS   ON   THE   DECK.  83 

"  Your  son  seems  to  know  how  to  fascinate  children,"  said 
the  lady,  addressing  the  elder  gentleman ;  "  he  has  evidently 
won  the  heart  of  my  little  Clara." 

"He  has  a  sister  just  about  her  age  in  Texas,"  replied 
the  father ;  "  he  is  glad  to  find  in  your  little  girl  a  substitute  for 
Emily." 

"  You  live  in  Texas  then  ?  "  asked  the  younger  gentleman. 

"  Yes  ;  let  me  introduce  myself,  since  I  was  the  first  to  broach 
conversation.  My  name  is  John  Onslow,  and  my  home  is 
in  Southwestern  Texas,  though  I  was  born  in  Mississippi, 
whence  I  removed  some  six  or  seven  years  ago.  My  family 
consists  of  a  wife,  two  sons,  and  a  daughter.  The  younger  of 
my  sons,  Robert,  sits  yonder.  The  elder,  William  Temple,  is 
a  student  at  Yale.  I  inherited  several  hundred  slaves.  I  have 
gradually  liberated  them  all.  In  Texas  I  am  trying  the  experi- 
ment of  free  labor ;  but  it  is  regarded  with  dislike  by  my  slave- 
holding  neighbors,  and  they  do  not  scruple,  behind  my  back, 
to  call  me  an  AboHtionist.  I  have  been  North  to  buy  farm- 
ing implements,  and  to  offer  inducements  to  German  immi- 
grants. There,  sir,  you  have  my  story;  and  if  you  are  a 
Yankee,  you  will  appreciate  my  candor." 

"  And  requite  it,  I  suppose  you  think,"  returned  the  younger 
gentleman,  laughing.  "  It  strikes  me  that  it  is  you,  Mr.  Ons- 
low, who  are  playing  the  Yankee.  You  have  been  talking,  sir, 
with  one  Henry  Berwick,  New-Yorker  by  birth,  retired  lawyer 
by  profession,  and  now  on  his  way  to  New  Orleans  to  attend  to 
some  real  estate  belonging  to  his  wife.  That  little  girl  is  his 
daughter.  Tliis  lady  is  his  wife.  My  dear,  this  is  our  fellow- 
passenger,  Mr.  Onslow.  Allow  me  to  introduce  him  to  your 
better  acquaintance." 

The  lady  courtesied,  flashing  upon  the  stranger  a  smile  that 
said  as  eloquently  as  smile  could  say,  "  I  need  no  vouchers  ;  I 
flatter  myself  I  can  distinguish  a  gentleman." 

As  she  turned  aside  her  glance  it  met  that  of  a  third  person, 
till  then  unnoticed.  He  was  pacing  the  deck  and  held  an  opera- 
glass  in  his  hand,  with  which  he  looked  at  places  on  either 
bank.  He  was  shghtly  above  the  middle  height,  compactly 
built,  yet  rather  slender  than  stout,  erect,  square-shouldered, 
neatly  limbed.     He  might  be  anywhere   between  thii'ty  and 


84  PECULIAR. 

thirty-five  years  of  age.  His  hair  was  here  and  tliere  threaded 
with  gray,  and  his  cheeks  Avere  somewhat  sunken,  although 
there  was  nothing  to  suggest  the  lassitude  of  ill-health  in  his 
appearance.  His  complexion  was  that  of  a  man  who  leads  an 
active  out-of-door  life  ;  but  his  hands  Avere  small  and  unmarked 
by  toil.  He  wore  his  beard  neatly  trimmed.  His  finely 
curved  Roman  features  and  small  expressive  mouth  spoke  re- 
finement and  strength  of  will,  not  untempered  with  tenderness ; 
while  his  dark  gi-ay  eyes  seemed  to  penetrate  without  a  pause 
straight  to  their  object.  A  sagacious  physiognomist  would  have 
said  of  him,  ''  That  man  has  a  story  to  tell ;  Hfe  has  been  to 
him  no  holiday  frolic."  In  the  expression  of  his  eyes  Mrs. 
Berwick  was  reminded  of  Sir  Joshua's  fine  picture  of  "  The 
Banished  Lord."  This  stranger,  as  he  passed  by,  looked  at 
her  gravely  but  intently,  as  if  struck  either  by  her  beauty  or 
by  a  fancied  resemblance  to  some  one  he  had  known.  There 
was  that  in  his  glance  which  so  drew  her  attention,  she  said 
to  her  husband,  '•  Wlio  is  that  man  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  seen  him  before,"  replied  Mr.  Berwick.  "  Prob- 
ably he  came  on  board  at  New  Madrid." 

They  walked  to  the  extent  of  their  promenade  forward,  and 
turning  saw  this  stranger  leaning  against  the  bulwarks.  His 
low-crowned  hat  of  a  delicate,  pliable  felt,  with  its  brims  half 
curled  up,  his  well-cut  pantaloons  of  a  coarse  but  unspotted 
fabric,  and  his  thin  overcoat  of  a  light  gray,  showed  that  the 
Broadway  fashions  of  the  hour  were  not  unfamiliar  to  the 
wearer.  This  time  he  did  not  look  up  as  the  three  passed. 
His  gaze  seemed  intent  on  the  children;  and  the  soft  smile 
on  his  lips  and  the  dewy  suffusion  in  his  eyes  beti-ayed  emotion 
and  tender  meditation. 

"  Well,  Leonora,  what  is  your  judgment  ?  Is  he,  too,  a  gen- 
tleman?" asked  JMr.  Berwick  of  his  wife. 

"  Yes ;  I  will  stake  my  reputation  as  a  sibyl  on  it,"  she 
replied. 

'•  Ah  !  you  vain  mother !  "  said  Berwick,  laughing.  "  You 
say  that,  because  he  seems  lost  in  admiration  of  our  little  Clara. 
Is  n't  her  weakness  transpai-ent,  IVlr.  Onslow  ?  What  think  you 
of  this  new-comer  ?  " 

'•  He  certainly  has  the   air  of  a  gentleman,"  said  Onslow 


GROUPS  ON  THE  DECK.  85 

«  and  yet  he  looks  to  me  very  much  like  a  fellow  I  once  had  up 
before  me  for  horse-stealing.  Was  he  too  much  interested  in 
looking  at  your  wife,  or  did  he  purposely  abstain  from  letting 
me  catch  his  eye  ?  I  should  n't  wonder  if  he  were  either  a 
steamboat  gambler  or  a  horse-thief  I  " 

"  Atrocious  ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Berwick.  "  I  don't  believe  a 
word  of  it.     That  man  a  horse-thief!      Impossible!" 

"  On  closer  examination,  I  think  I  must  be  mistaken,"  re- 
joined ISIr.  Onslow.  "  If  I  remember  aright,  the  fellow  with 
whom  I  confound  him  had  red  hair." 

"  There  !  I  knew  you  must  be  either  joking  or  in  error," 
said  the  lady. 

"  And  now,"  continued  Mr.  Onslow,  "  I  have  a  vague  recol- 
lection of  meeting  him  at  the  hotel  where  I  stopped  in  Chicago 
last  week." 

"  Ah !  if  he  is  a  Chicago  man,  I  must  be  right  in  my  estimate 
of  him,"  said  Mrs.  Berwick, 

"  Why  so  ?     Why  should  you  be  partial  to  Chicago  ?  " 

"  Because  my  father  was  one  of  the  first  residents  of  the 
place." 

"  What  was  his  name  ?  " 

"Robert  Aylesford." 

As  she  uttered  this  word  they  repassed  the  stranger.  To 
their  surprise  he  repeated,  in  a  tone  of  astonishment,  "  Ayles- 
ford ! "  then  seemed  to  fall  into  a  fit  of  musing.  Before  they 
again  reached  the  spot,  he  had  walked  away,  and  taken  a  seat 
in  an  arm-chair  aft,  where  he  occupied  himself  in  wiping  the 
opera-glass  with  his  handkerchief.  If  he  had  recognized  Ons- 
low, he  had  not  betrayed  it. 

Here  the  attention  of  all  on  the  upper  deck  was  arrested  by 
an  explosion  of  wrathful  oaths. 

A  tall,  gaunt,  round-shouldered  man,  dressed  in  an  ill-fitting 
suit  of  some  coarse,  home-made  cloth,  had  ascended  the  stairs 
with  a  lighted  cigar  in  his  mouth.  One  of  the  waiters  of  the 
boat,  a  bright-looking  mulatto,  followed  him,  calling,  "  Mister  ! 
Mister!" 

The  tall  man  paid  no  heed  to  the  call,  and  the  mulatto 
touched  him  on  the  shoulder,  and  said,  "  We  don't  allow  smok- 
ing on  this  deck,"  whereupon  the  tall  man  angrily  tui-ned  on 


86  PECULIAR. 

him.  and,  with  eyes  blazing  -with  savage  fire,  exclaimed :  "  What 
in  hell  air  yer  at,  nigger  ?  Ask  my  pardon,  blast  yer,  or  I  '11 
smash  in  yer  ugly  profile,  sure  ! " 

"  Ask  your  pardon  for  what  ?  " 

"  For  darrin'  to  put  yer  black  hand  on  me,  confound  yer !  " 

The  mulatto  replied  with  spirit :  "  You  don't  bully  this  child, 
Mister.     I  merely  did  my  duty." 

"  Duty  be  damned  !  I  '11  stick  yer,  sure,  if  yer  don't  apolo- 
gize right  oflP,  damned  lively ! "  And  the  tall  man  unsheathed  a 
monstrous  bowie-knife. 

Mr.  Onslow  approached,  and  mildly  interposed  with  the  re- 
mark, "  It  was  natural  for  the  waiter  to  touch  you,  since  he 
could  n't  make  you  hear." 

"  Who  the  hell  air  you,  sir  ?  "  said  the  tall  man.  "*I  reckon 
I  kn  settle  with  the  nigger  without  no  help  of  youm." 

"  Yes,"  said  another  voice  ;  "  if  the  gentleman  demands  it, 
the  nigger  must  ask  his  pardon." 

Ml".  Onslow  tui-ned,  and  to  his  surprise  beheld  the  stranger 
with  the  opera-glass. 

"  Really,  sir,"  said  IVIr.  Onslow,  "  I  hope  you  do  not  wish  to 
see  a  man  degrade  himself  merely  because  he  is  n't  white  like 
ourselves." 

"  The  point  can't  be  argued,  sii',"  said  the  stranger,  putting 
his  glass  in  his  pocket.  Then  seizing  the  mulatto  by  the 
thi'oat,  he  thrust  him  on  his  knees.  "  Down,  you  black  hound, 
and  ask  this  gentleman's  pardon." 

To  everybody's  surprise,  the  mulatto's  whole  manner 
changed  the  minute  he  saw  the  stranger;  and,  sinking  on 
his  knees,  he  crossed  his  arms  on  his  breast,  and,  with  do^Ti- 
cast  eyes,  said,  addressing  the  tall  man,  "  I  ask  pardon,  sir,  for 
putting  my  hand  on  you." 

"  Wall,  that 's  enough,  nigger !  I  pardon  yer,"  said  the  mol- 
lified tall  man,  returning  his  bowie-knife  to  its  sheath.  "  Nig- 
gers mus'  know  thar  places,  —  that 's  all.  Ef  a  nigger  knows 
his  place,  I  'd  no  more  harm  him  nor  I  'd  harm  a  vaVable  hoss." 

The  mulatto  rose  and  walked  away ;  but  ^^ith  no  such  show 
of  chagrin  as  a  keen  observer  might  have  expected ;  and  the 
tall  man,  turning  to  him  of  the  opera-glass,  said,  "  Sir,  ye  'r  a 
high-tone  gemmleman ;  an'  cuss  me  but  I  'm  proud  of  yer  ac- 
quaint.    Who  mowt  it  be  I  kn  call  yer,  sir  ?  " 


GROUPS   ON   THE  DECK.  87 

« Vance  of  New  Orleans,"  was  the  reply. 

"Mr.  Vance,  I'm  yourn.  I  know'd  yer  mus'  be  from  the 
South.  Yer  mus'  Hquor  with  me,  Mr.  Vance.  Sir,  ye'r  a 
high-tone  gemmleman.  I  'm  Kunnle  Hyde,  —  Kunnle  Delancy 
Hyde.  Virginia-born,  be  Gawd !  An'  I  'm  not  ashamed  ter 
say  it !  My  ahnces'toi-s  cum  over  with  the  caval'yers  in  King 
James's  time,  —  yes,'sir-r-r !  My  father  was  one  of  the  largest 
slave-owners  in  the  hull  State  of  yirginia,  —  yes,  sk-r-r ! 
Lost  liis  proputty,  every  damned  cent  of  it,  sir,  through  a  low- 
lived Yankee  judge,  sir!" 

"I  could  have  sworn.  Colonel  Hyde,  there  was  no  Puritan 
blood  in  your  veins." 

"  That 's  a  fak !  "  said  the  Colonel,  grimly  smiling  his  grati- 
fication. Then,  throwing  his  cigar  overboard,  he  remarked: 
"  The  Champion  's  nowhar,  I  reckon,  by  this  time.  She  ain't 
in  sight  no  longer.  What  say  yer  to  a  brandy-smash  ?  Or 
sh'l  it  be  a  julep  ?  " 

"  The  bar  is  crowded  just  now ;  let 's  wait  awhile,"  replied 
Vance. 

Here  Mr.  Onslow  turned  away  in  disgust,  and,  rejoming  the 
Berwicks,  remarked  to  the  lady,  "What  think  you  of  your 
gentleman  now  ?  " 

"  I  shall  keep  my  thoughts  respecting  him  to  myself  for  the 
present,"  she  replied. 

"  My  wife  piques  herself  on  her  skill  in  judging  of  character 
by  the  physiognomy,"  said  Mr.  Berwick,  apologetically  ;  "  and 
I  see  you  can't  make  her  beheve  she  is  wrong  in  this  case. 
She  sometimes  gets  impressions  from  the  very  handwriting  of 
a  person,  and  they  often  turn  out  wonderfully  correct." 

"  Has  Mrs.  Berwick  the  gift  of  second-sight  ?  Is  she  a 
seeress  ?  " 

"  Her  faculty  does  not  often  show  itself  in  soothsaying," 
said  Berwick.  "  But  I  have  a  step-mother  who  now  and  then 
has  premonitions." 

"  Do  they  ever  find  a  fulfilment  ?  " 

"  One  time  in  a  hundred,  perhaps,"  said  Berwick.  "  If  I 
believed  in  them  largely,  I  should  not  be  on  board  this  boat." 

"  Why  so  ?  "  inquired  Onslow. 

"She  predicts  disaster  to  it." 


88  PECULIAR. 

"  But  why  did  you  not  tell  me  that  before  ? "  asked  ^Mrs. 
Berwick. 

"  Simply,  my  dear,  because  you  are  inclined  to  be  supersti- 
tious." 

"  Hear  liim,  Mr.  Onslow !  "  said  Mrs.  Berwick.  "  He  calls 
me  superstitious  because  I  believe  in  spirits,  whereas  it  is  that 
belief  which  has  cured  me  of  superstition." 

"  I  can  readily  suppose  it,"  replied  Onslow.  "  The  supersti- 
tious man  is  the  unhelieverj  —  he  who  tliinks  that  all  these 
phenomena  can  be  produced  by  the  blind,  unintelhgent  forces 
of  nature,  by  a  mechanical  or  chemical  necessity." 

"  I  may  believe  in  spirits  in  their  proper  places,"  said  Ber- 
wick, "  and  not  believe  in  their  visiting  this  earth." 

"  But  what  if  their  condition  is  such  that  they  are  inde- 
pendent of  those  restrictions  of  space  or  place  which  are  such 
impediments  to  us  poor  mortals  ?  " 

"  Do  you,  too,  then,  believe  in  ghosts  ?  "  asked  Berwick. 

"  Yes  ;  I  am  a  ghost  myself,"  said  Onslow. 

Berwick  started  at  the  abruptness  of  the  announcement,  then 
smiled,  and  replied,    '*  Prove  it." 

"'  That  I  will,  both  etymologically  and  chemically,"  rejoined 
Onslow.  ''  The  words  ghost  and  gas  are  set  down  by  a  major- 
ity of  the  philologists  as  from  the  same  root,  whether  Grothic, 
Saxon,  or  Sanscrit,  implying  vapor,  spirit.  The  fermenting 
yeast,  the  steaming  geyser,  are  allied  to  it.  Now  modem  science 
has  established  (and  Professor  Henry  will  confirm  what  I  say) 
that  man  begins  his  earthly  existence  as  a  microscopic  vesicle 
of  almost  pure  and  transparent  water.  It  is  not  true  that  he  is 
made  of  dust.  He  consists  principally  of  solidified  air.  The 
ashes  which  remain  after  combustion  are  the  only  ingredient  of 
an  earthy  character  that  enters  into  the  composition  of  his 
body.  All  the  other  parts  of  it  were  originally  in  the  atmos- 
phere. Nay,  a  more  advanced  science  will  probably  show 
that  even  his  ashes,  in  their  last  analysis,  are  an  invisible, 
gaseous  substance.  Nine  tenths  of  a  man's  body,  we  can  even 
now  prove,  are  water  ;  and  water,  we  all  know,  may  be  decom- 
posed into  invisible  gases,  and  then  made  to  reappear  as  a  visi- 
ble liquid.  Science  tells  me,  dear  madam,  that  as  to  my  body 
I  am  nothing  but  forty  or  fifty  pounds  of  carbon  and  nitrogen, 


GROUPS  ON  THE  DECK,  89 

diluted  by  five  and  a  half  pailfuls  of  water.  Put  me  under 
hydraulic  pressure,  and  you  can  prove  it.  So  I  do  seriously 
maintain,  that  I  am  as  much  entitled  to  the  appellation  of  a 
ghost  (that  is,  a  gaseous  body)  as  was  the  buried  majesty  of 
Denmark,  otherwise  known  as  Hamlet's  father." 

"  And  I  assert  that  Mr.  Onslow  has  proved  his  point  admi- 
rably," said  Mrs.  Berwick,  clapping  her  little  hands. 

"  I  confess  I  never  before  considered  the  subject  in  that 
light,"  rejoined  her  husband. 

"  If  science  can  prove,"  continued  Mr.  Onslow,  "  that  nine 
tenths  of  my  present  body  may  be  changed  to  a  gaseous,  invisi- 
ble substance  (invisible  to  mortal  eyes),  with  power  to  permeate 
what  we  call  matter,  like  electricity,  is  it  so  very  difficult  to 
imagine  that  a  spii'it  in  a  spiritual  body  may  be  standing  here 
by  our  side  without  our  knowing  it  ?  " 

"  I  see  you  have  n't  the  fear  of  Sir  David  Brewster  and  the 
North  British  Review  before  your  eyes,  Mr.  Onslow." 

"  No,  for  I  do  not  regard  them  as  infallible  either  in  ques- 
tions of  physical  or  of  metaphysical  science.  Rather,  with  John 
Wesley,  the  founder  of  Methodism,  would  I  say,  '  With  my 
latest  breath  will  I  bear  testimony  against  giving  up  to  infidels 
one  great  proof  of  the  invisible  world,  that,  namely,  of  witch- 
craft and  apparitions,  confii-med  by  the  testimony  of  all  ages.'  " 

While  this  discussion  was  proceeding,  Colonel  Hyde  and  his 
new  acquaintance  were  pacing  the  larboard  side  of  the  deck, 
pausing  now  and  then  at  the  railing  forward  of  the  wheel-house 
and  looking  down  on  the  lower  deck,  where,  seated  upon  a  coil  of 
cables,  were  four  negroes,  one  of  them,  and  he  the  most  intelli- 
gent-looking of  the  lot,  being  handcuffed. 

"  How  are  niggers  now  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Vance. 

"  Niggers  air  bringin'  fust-rate  prices  jest  now,"  replied  the 
Colonel ;  "  and  Gov'nor  Wise  he  reckons  ef  we  fix  Californy 
and  Kahnsas  all  right,  a  prime  article  of  a  nigger  will  fotch 
twenty-five  hunderd  dollars,  sure." 

"  What 's  the  prospect  of  doing  that  ?  " 

"  Good.  The  South  ain't  sleeping,  —  no,  not  by  a  damned 
sight.  Californy  's  bound  to  be  ourn,  an'  the  Missouri  boys  will 
take  car'  of  Kahnsas." 

"  I  see  the  North  are  threatening  to  send  in  armed  immi- 


90  PECULIAR. 

grants,"  said  Vance ;  "  and  one  John  Brown  swears  Kansas 
shall  be  free  soil." 

"  John  Brown  be  damned !  "  replied  the  Colonel.  "  One 
common  Suthun  man  is  more  'n  a  match  fur  five  of  thar  best 
Yankees,  any  day.  Kahnsas  must  be  ourn,  ef  we  hev  to  shoot 
every  white  squatter  in  the  hull  terrertory.  By  the  way, 
that 's  a  likely  yuller  gal,  sittin'  thar  with  the  bebby.  That  gal 
ud  bring  sixteen  hunderd  dollars  sure  in  Noo  Orleenz." 

"  "Whose  niggers  are  those  I  see  forward  there,  on  the 
cables  ?  "  asked  Vance. 

"  Them  niggers,  ]Mi\  Vance,  air  under  my  car',  an*  I  'm  takin* 
'em  to  Texas  fur  Kunnle  Barnwell.  The  feller  yer  see  han'cuffed 
thar  an'  sleepin',  run  away  three  or  four  yars  ago.  At  last 
the  Kunnle  heerd,  thi-ough  Hermin  &  Co.,  that  Peek  (that 's  his 
name)  was  in  New  York  ;  an'  so  the  Kunnle  gits  me  ter  go  on 
fur  him  ;  an'  cuss  me  ef  I  did  n't  ketch  him  easy.  The  other 
three  niggei-s  air  a  lot  the  Kunnle's  agent  in  St.  Louis  bowt  fur 
him  last  week." 

"  How  did  you  dodge  the  Abolitionists  in  New  York  ?  "  in- 
quired Vance.  "  You  went  before  the  United  States  Commis- 
sioner, I  suppose,  and  proved  your  glaim  to  the  article." 

"  Damned  ef  I  did !  Ai'ter  I  'd  kotched  Peek,  he  said,  ef  as 
how  I  'd  let  him  go  home,  an'  settle  up,  he  'd  return,  so  help  him 
Gawd,  an'  give  hisself  up  \\ithout  no  fuss  or  trial.  Wall,  I  'm  a 
judge  of  niggers,  —  kn  see  right  tlu'ough  'em,  —  kn  ollerz  tell 
whan  a  nigger  's  lying.  I  seed  Peek  was  in  airnest,  and  so  T 
let  him  go ;  and  may  I  be  shot  but  he  cum  back  jest  at  the 
hour  he  said  he  would." 

"  Very  extraordinary  !  "  said  Vance,  musingly.  "  You  must 
be  a  great  judge  of  character.  Colonel  Hyde." 

"  Wall,  what 's  extrordinerer  still,"  continued  the  Colonel,  "  is 
this :  Peek  wanted  money  ter  send  ter  his  wife,  and  cuss  me  ef 
he  did  n't  offer  ter  go  the  hull  way  ter  Cincinnati  without  no 
officei-s  ter  guard  him,  ef  I  'd  give  him  twenty-five  dollars.  In 
coorse  I  done  it,  seein'  as  how  I  saved  fifty  dollars  by  the  oper- 
ation. The  minute  he  got  on  board  this  'ere  boat  I  hahd  him 
han'cuffed,  fur  I  knowed  his  promise  wah  n't  good  no  longer, 
anyhow." 

"  Colonel,  what 's  your  address  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Vance.     "  If 


GROUPS  ON  THE  DECK.  91 

ever  I  lose  a  nigger,  you  're  the  man  I  must  send  for  to  help  me 
find  him." 

The  Colonel  drew  forth  from  his  vest  pocket  a  dirty  card, 
and  presented  it  to  Mr.  Vance.  It  contained  these  words: 
«  Colonel  Delancy  Hyde,  Agent  for  the  Recovery  of  Escaped 
Slaves.  Address  him,  care  of  J.  Breckenridge,  St.  Louis ;  Her- 
min  &  Co.,  New  Orleans." 

"  Shall  be  proud  to  do  yer  business,  Mr.  Vance,"  said  the 
Colonel. 

"  I  must  have  a  talk  with  that  handcuffed  fellow  of  yours  by 
and  by,"  remarked  Vance. 

"  Do ! "  retm-ned  the  Colonel.  "  Yer  '11  find  him  a  right 
knowin'  nigger.  He  kn  read  an'  write,  an'  that  air  's  more  'n 
we  kn  say  of  some  white  folks  in  our  part  of  the  kintry." 

"  Do  the  owners  hereabouts  lose  many  slaves  now-a-days  ?  " 

"  Not  sence  old  Gashface  was  killed  last  autumn." 

"  Who  's  Gashface  ?     Is  it  a  real  name  ?  "  asked  Vance. 

"  Nobody  ever  knowed  his  raal  name,"  returned  the  Colonel ; 
"  an'  so  we  called  him  Gashface,  seein'  as  he  'd  a  bad  gash  over 
his  left  cheek.  He  was  a  half  mulatto,  with  woolly  hair,  an'  so 
short-sighted  he  weared  specs.  Wall,  that  bloody  cuss  hahz 
run  off  more  niggers  nor  all  the  abolitioners  in  the  Northwest, 

damned  ef  he  haint !     Two  milhons  of  dollars  would  n't  pay 

fur  all  the  slaves  he  's  helped  across  the  line.  He  guv  his  hull 
time  ter  the  work,  an'  was  crazy  mad  on  that  one  pint.  Last 
yar  the  planters  clubbed  together  an'  made  up  a  pus  of  five 
thousand  dollars  fur  the  man  that  'ud  shoot  the  cuss.  Two 
gemmlemen  from  Vicksburg  went  inter  the  job,  treed  him,  shot 
him  dead,  an'  tuk  the  five  thousand  dollars.  An  almighty 
good  day's  work !  "  * 

"  How  did  the  planters  know  they  had  got  the  right  man  ?  " 
asked  Vance. 

"  Wall,  there  wah  n't  much  doubt  about  that,  yer  see,"  said 
the  Colonel.     "  Them  as  shot  him  war'  high-tone  gemmlemen, 

*  It  afterwards  appeared  that  the  Vicksburg  "  gentlemen,"  impatient  at 
their  want  of  success,  selected  a  man  who  came  nearest  to  the  description  of 
Gashface,  shot  him,  and  then  marked  his  body  in  a  way  to  satisfy  the  ex- 
pectations of  those  who  had  formed  an  imaginative  idea  of  the  personal  pecu- 
liarities that  would  identify  the  celebrated  liberator,  so  long  the  terror  of 
masters  on  the  Mississippi. 


92  PECULIAR. 

both  on  'em,  an'  knowed  the  cuss  well.  So  did  I,  an'  they 
paid  me  a  cool  hunderd,  —  damned  if  they  did  n't !  —  to  come 
on  an'  swar  ter  the  body." 

"  Let 's  go  and  have  a  talk  with  your  smart  nigger,"  inter- 
rupted Vance. 

"  Agreed  !  "  replied  the  Colonel  with  an  oath ;  and  the  two 
descended  a  short  ladder,  and  stood  on  the  lower  deck  in  front 
of  Peek,  who  was  leaning  against  a  green  sliding  box  of  stones, 
used  for  keeping  the  boat  rightly  trimmed. 

"Wake  up  here,  Peek,"  said  Hyde,  kicking  him  not  very 
gently ;  "  here 's  my  friend,  Mr.  Vance,  come  ter  see  yer." 

The  slave  started,  and  his  eyes  had  a  lurid  glitter  as  they 
turned  on  Hyde ;  but  they  opened  with  a  wild  and  pleased  sur- 
prise as  they  caught  the  quick,  intelligible  glance  of  Vance, 
whose  right  hand  was  pointing  to  an  inner  pocket  of  his  coat. 
The  change  of  expression  in  the  slave  was,  however,  too  subtle 
and  evanescent  for  any  one  except  Vance  himself  to  recognize 
it ;  and  he  was  not  moved  by  it  to  take  other  notice  of  the 
negi'o  than  to  imitate  the  Colonel's  example  by  pushing  Peek 
with  his  foot,  at  the  same  time  saying,  "  I  wish  I  had  you  on  a 
sugar-plantation  down  in  Louisiana,  my  fine  fellow  !  I  'd  teach 
you  to  run  away !  You  would  n't  try  it  more  than  once,  I  'm 
thinking." 

"  Look  he-ah,  stranger,"  exclaimed  Peek,  rising  to  his  feet, 
with  a  look  of  savage  irritation,  and  clenching  liis  fists,  in  spite 
of  the  irons  on  liis  wrists,  "  you  jes'  put  yer  foot  on  me  agin, 
and  I  '11  come  at  yer,  shoo-ar  !  " 

"  You  '11  do  that,  will  you,"  said  Vance,  laying  both  hands 
on  the  slave's  throat,  shaking  him,  and  muttering  words  audible 
to  him  only. 

Peek,  seeming  to  struggle,  thrust  his  fettered  hands  into  tlie 
bosom  of  his  antagonist,  as  if  to  knock  him  down  ;  but  Vance 
pushed  him  up  against  the  bulwarks  of  the  boat,  and  held  him 
there,  with  his  grasp  on  his  throat,  till  the  slave  begged  humbly 
for  mercy.  Vance  then  let  him  go,  and  turning  to  Colonel 
Hyde,  with  perfect  coolness,  said,  "  That 's  the  way  to  let  a 
nigger  know  you  're  master."  To  which  the  Colonel,  unable  to 
repress  his  admiration,  replied  :  "  I  see  as  how  yer  understand 
'em,  from  hide  to  innards,  clar'  through.  A  nigger 's  a  nigger, 
all  the  world  over.     Now  let 's  liquor." 


GROUPS  ON  THE  DECK.  93 

They  went  to  the  bar,  around  which  a  motley  group  of 
smokers  and  drinkers  were  standing.  The  bar-keeper  was  a 
black  man,  and  between  him  and  Vance  there  passed  a  flash  of 
intelligence. 

"  What  shall  it  be,  Mr.  Vance  ?  "  asked  the  Colonel. 

"  Gin  for  me,"  was  the  reply. 

"Make  me  a  whiskey  nose-tickler,"  said  the  Colonel,  who 
seemed  to  be  not  unfamiliar  with  the  fancy  nomenclature  of  the 
bar-room. 

The  bar-keeper,  with  that  nimbleness  and  dexterity  which 
high  art  alone  could  have  inspired,  compounded  a  preparation 
of  whiskey,  lemon,  and  sugar  with  bitters,  crushed  ice,  and  a 
sprig  of  mint,  and  handed  it  to  the  Colonel,  at  the  same  time 
placing  a  decanter  labelled  "  Gin  "  before  Vance.  The  latter 
poured  out  two  thirds  of  a  tumbler  of  what  seemed  to  be  the 
raw  spirit,  and,  adding  neither  water  nor  sugar,  touched  glasses 
with  the  Colonel,  and  swallowed  it  off  as  if  it  had  been  a 
spoonful  of  eau  sucre.  So  overpowered  with  admiration  at  the 
feat  was  the  Colonel,  that  he  paused  a  full  quarter  of  a  minute 
before  doing  entire  justice  to  the  "nose-tickler"  which  had 
been  brewed  for  him. 

Some  of  the  loungers  now  drew  round  the  Colonel,  and 
asked  him  to  join  them  in  a  game  of  euchre.  He  looked 
inquiringly  at  Vance,  and  the  latter  said,  "  Go  and  play, 
Colonel ;  I  '11  rejoin  you  by  and  by."  Then,  in  a  confidential 
whisper,  he  added,  "  I  must  find  out  about  that  yellow  girl,  — 
whether  she  's  for  sale." 

The  Colonel  winked,  and  answered,  "  All  right,  "  and  Vance 
walked  away. 

"  Who  's  that  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Leonidas  Quattles,  a  long-haii-ed, 
swarthy  youth,  who  looked  as  if  he  might  be  half  Indian. 

"  That 's  Mr.  Vance  of  Noo  Orleenz,"  replied  the  Colonel ; 
"  he  's  my  partik'lar  friend,  an'  a  perfek  high-tone  gemmleman, 
I  don't  car'  whar'  the  other  is." 

"  How  stands  the  Champion  now  ? "  said  another  of  the 
party. 

"  Three  miles  astern,  and  thar  she  '11  stick,"  exclaimed  Quat- 
tles. 

As  Vance  reascended  to  the  upper  deck,  he  encountered  the 


94  PECULIAR. 

cliildren  at  play.  l!fttle  Clara  Berwick,  in  liigh  glee,  was  run- 
ning as  fast  as  her  infantile  feet  could  carry  her,  pursued  by 
Master  Onslow,  while  Hattie,  the  mulatto  woman  in  attend- 
ance, held  out  the  child's  bonnet,  and  begged  her  to  come  and 
have  it  on.  But  Clara,  with  her  light-brown  ringlets  flying  on 
the  breeze,  was  bent  on  trying  her  speed,  and  the  boy,  fearful 
that  she  would  fall,  was  trying  to  arrest  her.  Before  he  could 
do  tliis,  his  fears  were  reaUzed.  Clara  tripped  and  fell,  strik- 
ing her  forehead.  Vance  caught  her  up,  and  her  parents,  with 
Mr.  Onslow  and  Hattie,  gathered  round  her,  while  the  boy 
looked  on  in  speechless  distress. 

The  little  girl  was  so  stunned  by  the  blow;,  that  for  nearly  a 
minute  she  could  neither  cry  nor  speak.  Then  opening  her 
eyes  on  JNIi-.  Vance,  who,  seating  himself,  held  her  in  his  lap, 
she  began  to  grieve  in  a  low,  subdued  whimper. 

"  The  dear  little  creature  !  How  she  tries  to  restrain  her 
tears !  "  said  Vance.  "  Cry,  darling,  cry ! "  he  added,  while  the 
moisture  began  to  suffuse  his  own  eyes. 

Then,  taking  from  his  pocket  a  small  morocco  case,  he  said 
to  Mrs.  Berwick,  "  I  have  some  diluted  arnica  here,  madam, 
the  best  lotion  in  the  world  for  a  bruise.  With  your  permission 
I  will  apply  it." 

"  Do  so,"  said  the  mother.     "  I  know  the  remedy." 

And,  pulling  from  a  side  pocket  of  his  coat  a  fresh  handker- 
chief of  the  finest  linen,  he  wet  it  with  the  liquid,  and  applied 
it  tenderly  to  the  bruise,  all  the  while  engaging  the  child's  at- 
tention ^dth  prattle  suited  to  her  comprehension,  and  telHng 
her  what  a  brave  good  little  girl  she  was. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  "  he  asked. 

She  tried  to  utter  it,  but,  failing  to  make  herself  understood, 
the  mother  helped  her  to  say,  "  Clara  Aylesford  Berwick." 

'*  Aylesford  ! "  said  Vance,  thoughtfully.  Then,  gazing  in  the 
child's  face,  he  rejoined  :  "  How  strange !  Her  eyes  are  dis- 
similar.    One  is  a  decided  gray,  the  other  a  blue." 

"  Yes,"  said  Berwick  ;  "  she  gets  the  handsome  eye  from  me ; 
the  other  from  her  mamma." 

"  Conceited  man !  cease  your  trifling  ! "  interposed  the  lady. 

Vance  picked  up  from  the  deck  a  little  sleeve-button  of 
gold  and  coral.     It  had  been  dropped  in  the  child's  fall. 


GROUPS   ON  THE   DECK.  95 

"  This  must  belong  to  Miss  Clara,"  said  Vance,  "  for  it  bears 
the  initials  C.  A.  B." 

The  mother  took  it  and  fixed  it  in  the  little  dimity  pelisse 
which  the  child  wore. 

Hattie  now  offered  to  receive  IVIiss  Clara  from  Vance's  arms  ; 
but,  with  an  utterance  and  gesture  of  remonstrance,  the  cliild 
signified  she  did  not  choose  to  be  parted  without  a  kiss  ;  so  he 
bent  down  and  kissed  her,  while  she  threw  her  little  arms  about 
his  neck.  Then  seeing  the  boy,  who  felt  like  a  culprit  for 
chasing  her,  she  called  him  to  her  and  gave  him  absolution  by 
the  same  token.  Thanking  Vance  for  his  service,  Mr.  Ber 
wick  walked  away  with  Leonora. 

"  That 's  a  noble  boy  of  yours,  sir,"  said  Vance,  addressing 
himself  to  Mr.  Onslow. 

All  the  father's  displeasure  vanished  with  the  compliment, 
and  he  replied,  "  Yes,  Robert  is  a  noble  boy ;  that 's  the  true 
word  for  him." 

"  I  fear,"  resumed  Vance,  "  I  gave  you  some  cause  just  now 
to  form  a  bad  opinion  of  me  because  of  my  conduct  to  one  of 
the  waiters." 

"  To  be  frank,"  replied  Onslow,  "  I  did  feel  surprise  that  you 
should  take  not  only  the  strong  side,  but  the  wi-ong  one." 

"  Mr.  Onslow,  did  you  ever  read  Parnell's  poem  of  the  '  Her- 
mit'?" 

"  Yes,  it  was  one  of  the  favorites  of  my  youth." 

"  And  do  you  remember  how  many  things  seemed  wrong  to 
the  hermit  that  he  afterwards  found  to  be  right?" 

"I  perceive  the  drift  of  your  allusion,  sir,"  returned  Ons- 
low ;  "  but  I  am  puzzled,  nevertheless." 

"  Perhaps  one  of  these  days  you  will  be  enlightened."  Then, 
changing  the  subject,  Vance  remarked,  "  How  do  you  succeed 
in  Texas  in  your  attempt  to  substitute  free  labor  for  that  of 
slaves  ?  " 

"  My  success  has  been  all  I  could  have  hoped ;  but  the  more 
successful  I  am,  the  more  imminent  is  my  failure." 

"  Why  so  ?     That  sounds  like  a  paradox." 

"  The  rich  slave-owners  look  with  fear  and  dislike  on  my 
experiment." 

"  What  else  could  you  expect,  Mr.  Onslow  ?    Take  a  case, 


06  PECULIAR. 

publicly  vouched  for  as  true.  Not  long  since  a  New  York  capi- 
talist purchased  mineral  lands  in  Virginia,  with  a  view  to  work- 
ing them.  He  went  on  the  ground  and  hired  some  of  the  white 
inhabitants  of  the  neighborhood  as  laborers.  All  promised 
well,  when  lo !  a  committee  of  slaveholders,  headed  by  one 
Jenkins,*  waited  on  him,  and  told  him  he  must  discharge  his 
hands  and  hire  slaves.  The  white  laborers  offered  to  work  at 
reduced  wages  rather  than  give  up  their  employment,  but  they 
were  overawed,  and  their  employer  was  compelled  by  the  slave 
despots  to  abandon  his  undertaking  and  return  to  a  State  where 
white  laborers  have  rights." 

"  And  yetj"  said  Onslow,  '•  there  are  politicians  who  try  to 
persuade  the  people  that  the  enslaving  of  a  black  man  removes 
him  from  competition  with  white  labor ;  whereas  the  direct 
effect  of  slavery  is  to  give  to  slaveholders  the  monopoly  and 
control  of  the  most  desirable  kinds  of  labor,  and  to  enable  them 
to  degrade  and  impoverish  the  white  laboring  man ! " 

Here  the  furious  ringing  of  a  bell  called  the  gentlemen  to 
dinner. 

*  Afterwards  the  notorious  proslavery  guerilla  leader  in  Virginia. 


MR.  ONSLOW  SPEAKS  HIS  MIND.  97 


CHAPTER    XI. 

MR.  ONSLOW  SPEAKS  HIS  MIND. 

"How  faint  through  din  of  merchandise 
And  count  of  gain 
Has  seemed  to  us  the  captive's  cries  I 
How  far  away  the  tears  and  sighs 
Of  souls  in  pain  !  " 

Whittier. 

AN  opportunity  for  resuming  the  conversation  did  not  occur 
till  long  after  sundown,  and  when  many  of  the  passengers 
were  retiring  to  bed. 

"  I  have  heard,  IMr.  Onslow,"  said  Vance,  "  that  since  your 
removal  to  Texas  you  have  liberated  your  slaves." 

"  You  have  been  rightly  informed,"  replied  Onslow. 

"And  how  did  they  succeed  as  freedmen?" 

"  Two  thii-ds  of  them  poorly,  the  remaining  third  well." 

"  Does  not  such  a  fact  rather  bear  against  emancipation,  and 
in  favor  of  slavery?" 

"  Quite  the  contrary.  I  am  aware  that  the  enthusiastic  Mi'. 
Ruskin  maintains  that  slavery  is  '  not  a  pohtical  institution  at 
all,  but  an  inherent,  natural,  and  eternal  inheritance  of  a  large 
portion  of  the  human  race.'  But  as  his  theory  would  involve 
the  enslaving  of  white  men  as  well  as  black,  I  think  we  may 
dismiss  it  as  the  sportive  extravagance  of  one  better  qualified 
to  dogmatize  than  argue." 

"  But  is  he  not  right  in  the  application  of  his  theory  to  the 
black  race?" 

"  Far  from  it.  Look  at  the  white  men  you  and  I  knew  some 
twenty-five  years  ago.  How  many  of  them  have  turned  out 
sots,  gluttons,  thieves,  incapables  !  Shall  the  thrifty  and  wise, 
therefore,  enslave  the  imprudent  and  fooUsh  ?  Assuredly  not, 
whatever  such  clever  men  as  Mr.  Ruskin  and  Mr.  Thomas 
Carlyle  may  say  in  extenuation  of  such  a  proceeding." 

"  Do  not  escaped  or  emancipated  negroes  often  voluntarily 
return  to  slavery  ?  " 

5  a 


9.8  PECULIAR. 

"  Not  often,  but  occasionally ;  and  so  occasionally  a  white 
man  commits  an  offence  in  order  that  he  may  be  put  in  the  pen- 
itentiary. A  poor  negro  is  emancipated  or  escapes.  He  goes 
to  Philadelphia  or  New  York,  and  has  a  hard  time  getting  his 
grub.  In  a  year  or  two  he  drifts  back  to  his  old  master's  plan- 
tation, anxious  to  be  received  again  by  one  who  can  insure  to 
him  his  rations  of  mush ;  and  so  he  declares  there  's  no  place 
like  '  old  Virginny  for  a  nigger.'  Then  what  paeans  go  up  in  be- 
half of  the  patiiarchal  system !  What  a  conclusive  argument 
this  that '  niggers  will  be  niggers,'  and  that  slavery  is  right  and 
holy !  Slave-drivers  catch  at  the  instance  to  stiffen  up  their 
consciences,  and  to  stifle  that  inner  voice  that  is  perpetually 
telling  them  (in  spite  of  the  assurances  of  bishops,  clergymen, 
and  literary  dilettanti  to  the  contrary)  that  slavery  is  a  viola- 
tion of  justice  and  of  that  law  of  God  written  on  the  heart 
and  formulized  by  Christ,  that  we  must  do  unto  othei*s  as  we 
would  have  them  do  unto  us,  and  that  therefore  liberty  is  the 
Grod-given  right  of  every  innocent  and  able-minded  man.  In- 
stances like  that  I  have  supposed,  instead  of  being  a  palliation 
of  slavery,  are  to  my  mind  new  evidences  of  its  utter  sinful- 
ness. A  system  that  can  so  degrade  humanity  as  to  make 
a  man  covet  repression  or  extinction  for  his  manhood  must 
be  devilish  indeed." 

"  But,  IVIr.  Onslow,  do  not  statistics  prove  that  the  blacks 
increase  and  multiply  much  more  in  a  state  of  slavery  than 
in  any  other  ?  Is  not  that  a  proof  they  are  well  treated  and 
happy  ?  " 

"  That  is  the  most  hideous  argument  yet  in  favor  of  the  sys- 
tem. In  slavery  women  are  stimulated  by  the  beastly  ambition 
of  contending  which  shall  bear  '  the  most  little  nigs  for  massa ' ! 
Among  these  poor  creatures  the  diseases  consequent  upon  too 
frequent  child-bearing  are  dreadfully  prevalent.  Surely  the 
welfare  of  a  people  must  be  measured,  not  by  the  mere  amount 
of  animal  contentment  or  of  rapid  breeding  with  which  they 
can  be  credited,  but  by  the  sum  of  manly  acting  and  thinking 
they  can  show.  A  whole  race  of  human  beings  is  not  created 
merely  to  eat  mush,  hoe  in  cotton-fields,  and  procreate  slaves. 
The  example  of  one  such  escaped  slave  as  Frederick  Douglas 
shows  that  the  blacks  are  capable  of  as  high  a  civilization  as 
the  whites" 


MR.   ONSLOW  SPEAKS  niS  MIND.  99 

"Do  they  not  seem  to  you  rather  feeble  in  the  moral 
faculty  ?  " 

"  No  more  feeble  than  any  race  would  be,  treated  as  they 
have  been.  The  other  day  there  fell  into  my  hands  a  volume 
of  sermons  for  pious  slaveholders  to  preach  to  their  slaves.  It 
is  from  the  pen  of  the  excellent  Bishop  Meade  of  Virginia. 
The  Bishop  says  to  poor  Culfee  :  '  Your  bodies,  you  know,  are 
not  your  own  ;  they  ai-e  at  the  disposal  of  those  you  belong  to ; 
but  your  precious  souls  are  still  your  own:  What  impious 
cajolery  is  this  ?  The  master  has  an  unlimited,  irresponsible 
power  over  the  slave,  from  childhood  up,  —  can  force  him  to  act 
as  he  wills,  however  conscience  may  protest !  The  slave  may 
be  compelled  to  commit  crimes  or  to  reconcile  himself  to  wrongs, 
familiarity  with  which  may  render  his  soul,  like  his  body,  the 
mere  unreasoning,  impassive  tool  of  his  master.  And  yet  a 
bishop  is  found  to  try  to  cozen  Cuffee  out  of  the  little  common 
sense  slavery  may  have  left  him,  by  tellmg  him  he  is  responsi- 
ble for  that  soul,  which  may  be  stunted,  soiled,  perverted  in 
any  way  avai'ice  or  power  may  choose." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Onslow,  will  you  deny  that  slavery  has  an  en- 
nobling effect  in  educating  a  chivalrous,  brave,  hospitable  aris- 
tocracy of  whites,  untainted  by  ihose  meannesses  which  are 
engendered  by  the  greed  of  gain  in  trading  communities  ?  " 
"  I  will  not  deny,"  replied  Onslow,  "  that  the  habit  of  irre- 
sponsible command  may  develop  certain  qualities,  sometimes 
good,  sometimes  bad,  in  the  slave-driver  ;  and  so  the  exercise  of 
the  lash  by  the  overseer  may  develop  the  extensor  muscles  of 
the  arm ;  but  the  evils  to  the  whites  from  slaveiy  far,  far  out- 
balance the  benefits.  First,  there  are  the  five  millions  of  mean, 
non-slaveholdmg  whites.  These  the  system  has  reduced  to  a 
condition  below  that  of  the  slave  himself,  in  many  cases. 
Slavery  becomes  at  once  their  curse  and  their  infatuation.  It 
fascinates  while  it  crushes  them ;  it  drugs  and  stupefies  while 
it  robs  and  degrades." 

"  But  may  we  not  claim  advantages  from  the  system  for  the 
few,  —  for  the  upper  three  hundred  thousand?" 

"  That  depends  on  what  you  may  esteem  advantages.  Can 
an  injustice  be  an  advantage  to  the  perpetrator  ?  The  man 
who  betrays  a  moneyed  trust,  and  removes  to  Europe  with  his 


100  PECULIAR. 

family,  may  in  one  sense  derive  an  advantage  from  the  opera- 
tion. He  may  procure  the  means  of  educating  and  amusing 
himself  and  his  children.  So  the  slaveholder,  by  depriving 
other  men  of  tlieir  inherent  rights,  ma}'  get  the  means  of  bene- 
iiting  himself  and  those  he  cares  for.  But  if  he  is  content  with 
such  advantages,  it  must  be  because  of  a  torpid,  uneducated,  or 
perverted  conscience.  Patrick  Henry  was  right  when  he  said, 
'  Slaveiy  is  inconsistent  with  the  religion  of  Christ.'  O'Connell 
was  right  when  he  declared,  '  No  constitutional  law  can  create 
or  sanction  slavery.'  I  have  often  thought  that  Mississippians 
would  never  have  been  reconciled  to  that  stupendous  public 
swindle,  politely  called  repudiation,  if  slavery  had  not  first  pre- 
pared their  minds  for  it  by  the  robbery  of  labor.  And  yet  we 
have  men  like  Jefferson  Davis,*  who  not  only  palliate,  but  ap- 
prove the  cheat.  0  the  atrocity  !  0  the  shame  !  With  what 
face  can  a  repudiating  community  punish  tliieves  ?  " 

"  Shall  we  not,"  asked  Vance,  "  at  least  grant  the  slaveholder 
the  one  quality  he  so  anxiously  claims,  —  that  which  he  expresses 
in  the  word  chivalry  ?  " 

]Mi'.  Onslow  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  replied :  "  Put  be- 
fore the  chivalrous  slaveholder  a  poor  fanatic  of  an  Abolitionist, 
caught  in  the  act  of  tampering  with  slaves,  and  then  ask  this 
representative  of  the  chivaky  to  be  magnanimous.  No !  the 
mean  instincts  of  what  he  deems  self-interest  will  make  him  a 
fiend  in  cruelty.  He  looks  upon  the  Abolitionist  very  much  as 
a  gunpowder  manufacturer  would  look  upon  the  wandering 
Celt  who  should  approach  his  establishment  with  a  lighted  pipe 
in  his  mouth  ;  and  he  cheerfully  sees  the  culprit  handed  over  to 
the  tender  mercies  of  a  mob  of  ignorant  white  barbarians." 

"  Do  you,  then,  deny  that  slavery  develops  any  high  quali- 
ties in  the  master?" 

"  And  if  it  did,  what  right  have  I  to  develop  my  high  quali- 
ties at  another's  expense  ?  Yes !  Jefferson  is  right  when  he 
says:  *  The  whole  commerce  between  master  and  slave  is  a 
perpetual  exercise  of  the  most  boisterous  passions ;  the  most  un- 
remitting despotism  on  the  one  part  and  degrading  submissions 

*  The  dishonesty  of  Mr.  John  Slfdell's  attempt  to  expunge  from  Davis's 
history  the  reproach  of  repudiation  is  thoroughly  and  ii-refutably  exposed  by 
Mr.  Robert  J.  Walker  in  the  Continental  Monthly,  1863. 


MR.   ONSLOW  SPEAKS  HIS  MIND.  101 

on  the  other.  The  man  must  be  a  prodigy  who  can  retain  his 
manners  and  his  morals  undepraved  hj  such  circumstances.' " 
Mr.  Onslow  paced  the  deck  for  a  moment,  and  then,  return- 
ing, exclaimed :  "  O  the  unspeakable  crimes,  barbarities,  and 
deviltries  to  which  the  system  has  educated  men  here  at  the 
South  during  the  last  thirty  years  !  Educated  not  merely  the 
poor  and  ignorant,  but  the  rich  and  refined  !  The  North  knows 
hardly  a  tithe  of  the  actual  horrors.  Worse  than  the  wildest 
religious  fanaticism,  slavery  sees  men  tortured,  hung,  muti- 
lated, subjected  to  every  conceivable  indignity,  cruelty,  agony, 
simply  because  the  victim  is  unsound,  or  suspected  to  be  un- 
sound, on  the  one  supreme  question.  I  myself  have  been  often 
threatened,  and  sometimes  the  presentiment  is  strong  upon  me 
that  my  end  will  be  a  bloody  one.  I  should  not  long  be  safe, 
were  it  not  that  in  our  region  there  are  brave  men  who,  like 
me,  begin  to  question  the  divinity  of  the  obscene  old  hag." 

Mr.  Onslow  again  walked  away,  and  then,  coming  close  up 
to  Vance,  said  in  low  tones  :  "  But  retribution  must  come,  —  as 
sure  as  God  lives,  retribution  must  come,  and  that  speedily! 
Slavery  must  die,  in  order  that  Freedom  and  Civilization  may 
live.  I  see  it  in  all  the  signs  of  the  times,  in  all  the  straws 
that  drift  by  me  on  the  current  of  events.  Retribution  must 
come,  —  come  with  bloodshed,  anguish,  and  desolation  to  both 
North  and  South, — to  Slavery,  with  spasms  of  diabolical 
cruelty,  violence,  and  unholy  wrath,  and  to  Freedom  with 
trials  long  and  doubtful,  but  awaking  the  persistent  energy 
which  a  righteous  cause  will  inspire,  and  leading  ultimately  to 
permanent  triumph  and  to  the  annihilation  on  this  continent  of 
the  foul  power  which  has  ruled  us  so  long,  and  which  shall 
dare  to  close  in  deadly  combat  with  the  young  genius  of  uni- 
versal Liberty." 

Vance  grasped  Onslow  by  the  hand,  but  seemed  too  excited 
to  speak.  Then,  as  if  half  ashamed  of  his  emotion,  he  said, 
"  Will  there  be  men  at  the  South,  think  you,  to  array  them- 
selves on  the  side  of  fi-eedom,  in  the  event  of  a  collision  ?  " 

"  There  will  be  such  men,  but,  until  the  slave-power  shall  be 
annihilated  forever,  they  will  be  a  helpless  minority.  A  few 
rich  leaders  control  the  masses  which  Slavery  has  herself  first 
imbruted.     Crush  out  slavery,  and  there  will  be  regenerators 


102  PECULIAR. 

of  the  land  who  will  spring  up  by  thousands  to  welcome  their 
brethren  of  the  North,  whose  interests,  like  theirs,  lie  in  uni- 
versal freedom  and  justice." 

"  You  do  not,  then,  believe  those  who  tell  us  there  is  an  eter- 
nal incompatibility  between  the  people  of  the  slaveholding  and 
non-slaveholding  States  ?  " 

'•  Bah  I  These  exaggerations,  the  rhetoric  of  feeble  spirits, 
and  the  logic  of  false,  are  stuff  and  rubbish  to  any  true  student 
of  human  nature.  There  is  no  incompatibility  between  North 
and  South,  except  wliat  slavery  engender  and  strives  to  inten- 
sify. Strike  away  slavery,  and  the  people  gravitate  to  each 
other  by  laws  higher  than  the  bad  passions  of  your  Rhetts, 
Yanceys,  and  Maurys.  The  small-beer  orators  and  forcible- 
feeble  writers  of  tlie  South,  who  are  eternally  raving  about 
the  mean,  low-born  Yankees,  and  laboring  to  excite  alienation 
and  prejudice,  ai-e  merely  the  tools  of  a  few  plotting  oligarchs 
who  hope  to  be  the  chiefs  of  a  Southern  Confederacy." 

''  And  must  civil  war  necessarily  follow  from  a  separation  ?  " 

"As  surely  as  thunder  follows  from  the  lightning-rent! 
Yes,  Webster  is  undoubtedly  right :  there  can  be  no  such  thmg 
as  peaceable  secession,  and  I  rejoice  that  there  cannot  be." 

"  But  would  not  a  ci\il  war  render  inevitable  that  alienation* 
which  these  Richmond  scribblers  ai-e  trying  to  antedate «?  " 

''  No.  Enmity  would  be  kept  up  long  enough  for  the  slave- 
power  to  be  scotched  and  killed,  and  then  the  people  of  both 
sections  would  see  that  there  was  notliing  to  keep  them  apart, 
that  their  interests  are  identical.  The  true  people  of  the 
South  would  soon  realize  that  the  three  hundred  thousand 
slaveholders  are  even  more  their  enemies  than  enemies  of  the 
North.  A  reaction  against  our  upstart  aristocracy  (an  aristoc- 
racy resting  on  tobacco-casks  and  cotton-bales)  would  ensue, 
and  the  South  would  be  republicanized,  —  a  consummation 
which  slaveiy  has  thus  far  prevented.  South  Carolina  was 
Tory  in  the  Revolution,  just  as  she  is  now.  Abolish  slavery,  and 
we  should  be  United  States  in  fact  as  well  as  in  name.  Abol- 
ish slavery,  and  you  abolish  sectionalism  with  it.  Abolish 
slavery,  and  you  let  the  masses  North  and  South  see  that  their 
welfare  lies  in  the  preservation  of  the  repubUc,  one  and  indi- 
visible." 


MR.   ONSLOW  SPEAKS  HIS  MIND.  103 

"  And  do  you  anticipate  civil  war  ?  " 

"  Yes,  such  a  civil  war  as  the  world  has  never  witnessed.* 
The  devil  of  slavery  must  go  out  of  us,  and  as  it  is  the  worst 
of  all  the  devils  that  ever  afflicted  mankind,  it  can  go  out  only 
through  unprecedented  convulsions  and  tearings  and  agonies. 
The  North  must  suiFer  as  well  as  the  South,  for  the  North 
shares  in  the  guilt  of  slavery,  and  there  are  thousands  of  men 
there  who  shut  their  eyes  to  its  enormities.  Believe  me,  their 
are  high  spiritual  laws  underlying  national  offences;  and  the 
Nemesis  that  must  punish  ours  is  near  at  hand.  Slavery  must 
be  destroyed,  and  war  is  the  only  instrumentality  that  I  can 
conceive  of  energetic  enough  to  do  it.  Through  war,  then, 
must  slavery  be  destroyed." 

"  And  I  care  not  how  soon !  "  said  Vance.  Then,  lowering 
his  tone,  he  remarked  :  "  Have  you  not  been  imprudent  in  con- 
fiding your  views  to  a  stranger,  who  could  have  you  lynched  at 
the  next  landing-place  by  reporting  them  ?  " 

"  Perhaps.  But  I  bide  the  risk ;  you  have  not  been  so 
shrewd  an  actor,  sir,  that  I  have  not  seen  behind  the  mask." 

Vance  started  at  the  word  actor,  then  said,  looking  up  at  the 
stars :  "  What  a  beautiful  night !  Does  not  the  Champion  seem 
lo  be  gaining  on  us  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  thinking  so  for  some  minutes,"  replied  Onslow. 

"  Good  night,  Mr. Excuse  me.     I  have  n't  the  pleasure 

of  knowing  your  name." 

"  And  yet  we  have  met  before,  Mr.  Onslow,  and  under  cir- 
cumstances that  ought  to  make  me  remembered." 
"  To  what  do  you  allude  ?  " 

"  I  was  once  brought  before  you  for  horse-stealing,  and,  what 
is  more,  you  found  me  guilty  of  the  charge,  and  rightly." 

"  Then  my  recollection  was  not  at  fault,  after  all ! "  exclaimed 
Onslow,  astonished.     "  But  were  you  indeed  guilty  ?  " 

"  I  certainly  took  a  horse,  but  it  was  a  case  of  necessity. 
A  friend  of  mine,  a  colored  man,  in  defence  of  his  liberty,  had 
wounded  his  master,  so  called,  and  was  flying  for  life.  ^  To 
save  him  I  robbed  the  robber,  —  took  his  horse  and  gave  it  to 
his  victim,  enabling  the  latter  to  get  off  safely.     The  fact  of 

*  This  prediction  was  merely  one  among  many  hundred  such  which  every 
reader  of  newspapers  will  remember. 


104  rECULIAR. 

my  taking  the  horse  was  clearly  proved,  but  ray  motive  was  not 
discovered.  If  it  had  been,  Judge  Lynch  would  surely  have 
relieved  you  of  the  care  of  me.  You,  as  justice  of  the  peace, 
remanded  me  to  prison  for  trial.  That  night  I  escaped.  In 
an  outer  room  of  the  jail  1  found  a  knife  and  half  of  a  slaugh- 
tered calf.  The  knife  I  put  in  my  pocket.  The  carcass  I 
threw  over  my  shoulder,  and  ran.  In  the  morning  I  found  five 
valuable  bloodhounds  on  my  track.  I  climbed  a  tree,  and  when 
they  came  under  it,  I  fed  them  till  they  were  all  tame,  and 
allowed  me  to  descend ;  and  then  I  cut  their  throats,  lest  they 
should  be  used  to  hunt  down  fugitives  from  slavery.  Two  days 
afterwards  I  was  safe  on  board  a  steamboat,  on  my  way  North/' 

"  Who,  then,  are  you,  sir  ?  "  asked  Onslow. 

Vance  whispered  a  word  in  reply. 

Mr.  Onslow  seemed  agitated  for  a  moment,  and  then  ex- 
claimed, "  But  I  thought  he  was  dead !  " 

"  The  report  originated  with  those  who  took  the  reward 
offered  for  his  head.  ]Mi\  Onslow,  I  have  repaid  your  frank- 
ness \\dth  a  similar  frankness  of  my  own.  To-morrow  morning, 
at  ten  o'clock,  meet  me  here,  and  you  shall  hear  more  of  my 
story.     Good  night." 

The  gentlemen  parted,  each  retii-ing  to  his  state-room  for 
repose. 


THE  STORY  OF  ESTELLE.  105 

CHAPTER    XII. 

THE  STORY  OF  ESTELLE. 


"Tears,  idle  tears,  I  know  not  what  they  mean, 
Tears  from  the  depth  of  some  divine  despair. 
Rise  in  the  heart,  and  gather  to  the  eyes, 
In  looking  on  the  happy  autumn-fields 
And  thinking  of  the  days  that  are  no  more. 


Tennyson. 


BALMY,  bright,  and  beautiful  broke  the  succeeding  morn- 
ing. Every  passenger  as  he  came  on  deck  looked  astern 
to  see  what  had  become  of  the  Champion.  She  still  kept  her 
usual  distance,  dogging  the  Pontiac  with  the  persistency  of  a 
fate.  Captain  Crane  said  nothing,  but  it  was  noticeable  that 
he  puffed  away  at  his  cigar  with  increased  vigor. 

IVIr.  Yance  encountered  the  Berwicks  once  more  on  the  hur- 
ricane deck  and  interchanged  greetings.  Little  Clara  recog- 
nized her  friend  of  the  day  before,  and,  jumping  from  Hattie's 
lap,  ran  and  pulled  his  coat,  looking  up  in  his  face,  and  pouting 
her  lips  for  a  kiss. 

« I  fancy  I  see  two  marked  traits  in  your  little  girl,  already," 
said  Vance  to  the  mother,  after  he  had  saluted  the  child  ;  "  she 
is  strong  in  the  affections,  and  has  a  will-power  that  shows 
itself  in  self-control." 

"  You  are  right,"  replied  the  mother ;  "  I  have  known  her 
to  bite  her  lips  till  the  blood  came,  in  her  effort  to  keep  from 
crying." 

"  Such  is  her  individuality,"  continued  Vance.  "  I  doubt  if 
circumstances  of  education  could  do  much  to  misshape  her 
moral  being." 

«  Ah !  that  is  a  fearful  consideration,"  said  the  lady ;  "  we 
cannot  say  how  far  the  best  of  us  would  have  been  perverted 
if  our  early  training  had  been  unpropitious." 

"  I  knew  your  father,  Mrs.  Berwick.  He  found  me,  a  stranger 
stricken  down  by  fever,  forsaken  and  untended,  in  a  miserable 
shanty  called  a  tavern,  in  Southern  Illinois,  in  the  sickly  sea- 

5* 


lOG  PECULIAR. 

son.  He  devoted  himself  to  me  till  I  was  convalescent.  I 
shall  never  forget  his  kindness.  Will  you  allow  mp  to  look  at 
that  little  seal  on  your  watch-chain  ?  It  ought  to  bear  the  let- 
ters '  AY.  C.  to  R.  A.'  Thank  you.  Yes,  there  they  are  !  I 
sent  him  the  seal  as  a  memento.     The  cutting  is  my  own." 

"  I  shall  regard  it  with  a  new  interest,"  said  ]Mrs.  Berwick, 
as  she  took  it  back. 

]Mr.  Onslow  here  appeared  and  bade  the  party  good  morning. 

'•  I  feel  that  I  am  among  friends,"  said  Vance.  "  I  last  night 
promised  Mr.  Onslow  a  stoiy.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  the  re- 
doubtable Gashface,  Mr.  BerA^ck?" 

"  Yes,  and  I  warn  you,  sir,  that  I  am  quite  enough  of  an 
Abolitionist  to  hold  his  memory  in  a  sort  of  respect." 

"  Bold  words  to  utter  on  the  Southern  Mississippi !  But  do 
not  be  mider  concern  :  I  myself  am  Gashface.  Yes.  The 
report  of  his  being  killed  is  a  lie.  Are  you  in  a  mood  to  hear 
his  story,  Mrs.  Berwick?" 

"  I  shall  esteem  it  a  privilege,  sir." 

"The  last  time  I  told  it  was  to  your  father.  Be  seated,  and 
try  and  be  as  patient  as  he  was  in  listening." 

The  party  arranged  themselves  in  chairs  ;  and  Mr.  Vance 
was  about  to  take  up  his  parable,  when  the  figure  of  Colonel 
Delancy  Hyde  was  seen  emerging  from  the  stairs  leading  from 
the  lower  deck. 

"  Hah !  jyir.  Vance,  I  'm  youm,"  exclaimed  the  Colonel,  with 
effusion.  "  Been  lookin'  fur  yer  all  over  the  boat.  Introduce 
yer  friends  ter  me." 

Vance  took  from  his  pocket  the  Colonel's  cai'd,  and  read 
aloud  the  contents  of  it. 

"From  Virginia,  ma'am,"  supplemented  the  Colonel,  who 
was  already  redolent  of  Bourbon  ;  "  the  name  of  Delancy 
Hyde  hahz  been  in  the  family  more  'n  five  hunderd  yarz. 
Fak,  ma'am !  My  father  owned  more  slaves  nor  he  could  count. 
Ef  it  hahd  n't  been  fur  a  damned  Yankee  judge,  we  sh'd  hahv 
held  more  land  nor  you  could  ride  over  in  a  day.  Them  low- 
bom  Yankees,  ma'am,  air  jes'  fit  to  fetch  an'  carry  for  us  as  air 
the  master  race ;  to  larn  our  childern  thar  letters  an'  make  our 
shoes,  as  the  Greeks  done  fur  the  Romans,  ma'am.  Ever  read 
the  Richmond  newspapei-s,  ma'am?      John  Randolph   wunst 


THE   STORY   OF  ESTELLE.  107 

said  he  'd  go  out  of  his  way  to  kick  a  sheep.  I  'd  go  out  of 
my  way,  ma'am,  to  kick  a  Yankee." 

"  If  you  're  disposed  to  listen  to  a  story.  Colonel,"  said 
Vance,  "  take  a  chair."  And  he  pointed  to  one  the  furthest 
from  Mrs.  Berwick.  "  I  am  about  to  read  an  autobiography  of 
the  fellow  Gashface,  of  whom  you  have  heard." 

And  Vance  di-ew  from  his  pocket  a  small  visiting  card 
crowded  close  with  stenographic  characters  in  manuscript. 

"  An'  that 's  an  auter  —  what  d'  yer  call  it,  —  is  it  ?  "asked 
the  Colonel.    "Cur'ous!" 

The  Colonel  reinforced  himself  with  a  plug  of  tobacco,  and 
Vance  began  to  recite  what  he  called,  for  the  occasion,  "  The 
Autobiography  of  Gashface."     But  we  prefer  to  name  it 

®lie  Stors  of  OcsteUe. 

I  was  born  in  New  Orleans,  and  am  the  son  of  William 
Carteret.  He  was  a  Virginian  by  birth,  the  younger  son  of  a 
planter,  whose  forefather,  a  poor  Yorkshire  gentleman,  came 
over  from  England  with  Sir  Thomas  Dale  in  the  year  1611. 
You  might  think  me  false  to  my  father's  native  State  if  I  did 
not  vindicate  my  claim  to  a  descent  from  one  of  the  first  Vir- 
ginia families.  You  must  be  aware  that  all  the  gentle  blood 
that  flowed  from  Europe  to  this  continent  sought  Virginia  as  its 
congenial  reservoir.  It  would  be  difficult  to  find  a  low-born 
white  man  in  the  whole  eastern  section  of  the  State. 

["  That 's  a  fak  ! "  interposed  the  Colonel.] 

My  grandfather  died  in  1820,  leaving  all  his  property  to  his 
eldest  son,  Albert.  (Virginia  then  had  her  laws  of  primogeni- 
ture.) Albert  generously  offered  to  provide  for  my  father,  but 
the  latter,  finding  that  Albert  could  not  do  this  without  reducing 
the  provision  for  his  sisters,  resolved  to  seek  fortune  at  the 
North.  He  went  to  New  York,  where  he  studied  medicine. 
But  here  he  encountered  Miss  Peyton,  a  beautiful  girl  from 
Virginia,  nobly  supporting  herself  by  giving  instruction  in 
music.  He  married  her,  and  they  consoled  themselves  for 
their  poverty  by  their  fidelity  and  devotion  to  each  other. 
The  loss  of  their  first  child,  in  consequence,  as  my  father 
believed,  of  the  unhealthy  location  of  his  house,  induced  him 
to  make  extraordinary  efforts  to  earn  money. 


108  PECULIAR. 

After  various  fruitless  attempts  to  establisli  himself  in  some 
lucrative  employment,  he  made  his  debut,  under  an  assumed 
name,  at  the  Park  Theatre,  in  the  character  of  Douglas,  in 
Home's  once  famous  tragedy  of  that  name.  My  father's  choice 
of  this  part  is  suggestive  of  the  moderate  but  respectable  char- 
acter of  his  success.  He  played  to  the  judicious  few;  but  their 
verdict  in  his  favor  was  not  sufficiently  potent  to  make  him  a 
popular  actor.  He  soon  had  to  give  up  the  high  starring  parts, 
and  to  content  himself  with  playing  the  gentleman  of  comedies 
or  the  second  part  in  tragedies.  Li  this  humbler  line  he  gained 
a  reputation  which  has  not  yet  died  out  in  theatrical  circles. 
He  could  always  command  good  engagements  for  the  theatrical 
season  in  respectable  stock-companies.  He  was  fulfilling  one 
of  these  engagements  in  Xew  Orleans  when  I  was  born. 

A  month  afterwards  he  ended  his  career  in  a  manner  that 
sent  a  thrill  through  the  public  heart.  He  was  one  evening 
playing  Othello  for  his  own  benefit.  Grateful  for  a  crowded 
house,  he  was  putting  forth  his  best  powers,  and  with  extraor- 
dinary success.  Never  had  such  plaudits  greeted  and  inspired 
him.  The  property-man,  whose  duty  it  is  to  furnish  all  the  ar- 
ticles needed  by  the  actor,  had  given  liim  at  rehearsal  a  blunted 
dagger,  so  contrived  with  a  spring  that  it  seemed  to  pierce  the 
breast  when  thrust  against  it  At  night  this  false  dagger  was 
mislaid,  and  the  property-man  handed  him  a  real  one,  omitting 
in  the  hurry  of  the  moment  to  inform  him  of  the  change.  In 
uttering  the  closing  words  of  his  part, — 

"  I  took  by  the  throat  the  circumci-sed  dog, 
And  smote  him  thus^'"'  — 

my  father  inflicted  upon  himself,  not  a  mimic,  but  a  real  stab, 
so  forcible  that  he  did  not  survive  it  ten  minutes. 

Great  was  my  mother's  anguish  at  her  loss.  She  was  not 
left  utterly  destitute.  My  father  had  not  fallen  into  the  beset- 
ting sins  of  the  profession.  He  saw  in  it  a  way  to  competence, 
if  he  would  but  lead  a  pure  and  thrifty  life.  In  the  seven 
years  he  had  been  on  the  stage  he  had  laid  up  seven  thousand 
dollars.  Pride  would  not  let  him  allow  my  mother  to  labor 
for  her  support.  But  now  she  gladly  accepted  from  the  man- 
ager an  offer  of  twenty-five  dollars  a  week  as  "  walking  lady." 


THE   STORY   OF  ESTELLE.  109 

On  this  sum  she  contrived  for  seventeen  years  to  live  decently 
and  educate  her  son  liberally. 

At  last  sickness  obliged  her  to  give  up  her  theatrical  engage- 
ment. She  had  invested  her  seven  thousand  dollars  in  bonds 
of  the  Planters'  Bank  of  Mississippi,  to  the  redemption  of  which 
the  faith  of  that  State  was  pledged.  The  repudiation  of  the 
bonds  by  the  State  authorities,  under  the  instigation  of  Mr.  Jef- 
ferson Davis,  deprived  her  of  her  last  resource.  Impoverished 
in  means,  broken  in  health,  and  unable  to  labor,  she  fell  into  a 
decline  and  died. 

The  humane  manager  gave  me  a  situation  in  his  company. 
I  became  an  actor,  and  for  seven  years  played  the  part  of  sec- 
ond young  gentleman  in  comedies  and  melodramas ;  also  such 
parts  as  Horatio  in  "  Hamlet "  or  Macduff  in  "  Macbeth."  But 
my  heart  was  not  in  my  vocation.  It  had  chagrins  which  I 
could  not  stomach. 

One  evening  I  was  playing  the  part  of  a  lover.  The  drama- 
tis persona  of  whom  I  was  supposed  to  be  enamored  was  rep- 
resented by  Miss  B ,  rather  a  showy,  voluptuous  figure,  but 

whom  I  secretly  disliked  for  qualities  the  reverse  of  those  of 
Caesar's  wife.  Instead  of  allowing  my  aversion  to  appear,  I 
played  with  the  appropriate  ardor.  In  performing  the  "  busi- 
ness "  of  the  part,  I  was  about  to  kiss  her,  when  I  heard  a  loud, 
solitary  hiss  from  a  person  in  an  orchestra  box.  He  was  a 
man  of  a  full  face,  very  fair  red-and-white  complexion,  and 
thick  black  whiskers,  —  precisely  what  a  coarse  feminine  taste 
would  call  "  a  handsome  fellow."  Folding  my  arms,  I  walked 
towards  the  foot-lights,  and  asked  what  he  wanted.  "  None  of 
your  business,  you  damned  stroller!"  replied  he;  "I  have  a 
right  to  hiss,  I  suppose."  "  And  I  have  a  right  to  pronounce 
you  a  blackguard,  I  suppose,"  returned  I.  The  audience  ap- 
plauded my  rebuke,  and  laughed  at  the  handsome  man,  who, 
with  scarlet  cheeks,  rose  and  left  the  house.  I  learned  he  was 
a  Mr.  Ratcliff,  a  rich  planter,  and  an  admirer  of  Miss  B . 

Soon  after  this  adventure  I  quitted  the  profession,  and  for 
some  time  gave  myself  up  to  study.  My  tastes  were  rather 
musical  than  histrionic  ;  and  having  from  boyhood  been  a  pro- 
ficient on  the  piano-forte,  I  at  last,  when  all  my  money  was 
exhausted,  offered  my  services  to  the  public  as  a  teacher. 


110  PECULIAR. 

My  first  pupil  was  Henri  Dufour,  the  only  son  of  the  widow 
of  a  French  physician.  It  was  soon  agreed  that,  for  the  gi-eater 
convenience  of  Henri,  and  in  payment  for  his  tuition,  I  should 
become  a  member  of  the  family^  which  was  small,  consisting 
only  of  himself,  his  mother,  Jane,  a  black  slave,  and  Estelle,  a 
white  gii-1  who  occupied  the  position  of  a  humble  companion  of 
the  mdow. 

[At  this  point  in  the  narrative,  Mr.  Quattles  appeared  at  the 
head  of  the  stairs,  and,  with  his  forefinger  placed  on  the  side 
of  his  long  nose,  winked  expressively  at  Colonel  Hyde.  The 
latter  rose,  and  said,  "  Sorry  to  go,  Mr.  Vance ;  but  the  fak  is, 
I  'm  in  fur  a  hahnd  at  euchre,  an'  jest  cum  up  ter  see  ef  you  'd 
jine  us." 

"  You  're  too  gallant  a  man,  Colonel  Delancy  Hyde,"  rej^lied 
Vance,  "  not  to  agree  with  me,  when  I  say,  Duty  to  ladies  first." 

"  Yer  may  bet  yer  pile  on  that,  Mr.  Vance ;  the  ladies  fust 
oUerz ;  but  Madame  will  'scuze  me,  I  reckon.  Hahd  a  high 
old  time,  ma'am,  last  night,  an'  an  almighty  bahd  streak  of  luck. 
Must  make  up  fur  it  somehow." 

"  Business  before  pleasure,  Colonel,"  said  Vance.  "  We  '11 
excuse  you." 

And  the  Colonel,  with  a  lordly  sweep  of  his  arm,  by  way  of 
a  bow,  joined  his  companion,  Quattles,  to  whom  he  remarked, 
"  A  high-tone  Suthun  gemmleman  that,  and  one  as  does  credit 
to  his  raisin'."  The  companions  having  disappeared,  Vance 
proceeded  with  his  story.] 

Let  me  call  up  before  you,  if  I  can,  the  image  of  Estelle. 
In  person  about  three  inches  shorter  than  I  (and  I  am  five  feet 
six),  slender,  lithe,  and  willowy,  yet  compactly  rounded,  straight, 
and  singularly  graceful  in  every  movement ;  a  neck  and  bust 
that  might  have  served  Powers  for  a  model  when  the  Greek 
Slave  was  taking  form  in  his  brain ;  a  head  admirably  propor- 
tioned to  all  these  symmetries ;  a  face  rather  Grecian  than  Eo- 
man,  and  which  always  reminded  me  of  that  portrait  of  Beatrice 
Cenci  by  Guido,  made  so  familiar  to  us  through  copies  and  en- 
gravings ;  a  portrait  tragic  as  the  fate  of  the  original  in  its  se- 
rene yet  mournful  expression.  But  Estelle's  hair  dilfered  from 
that  of  Beatrice  in  not  being  auburn,  but  of  a  rare  and  beauti- 
ful olive  tint,  almost  like  the  bark  of  the  laburnum-tree,  and 


THE  STORY   OF   ESTELLE.  Ill 

exquisitely  fine  and  thick.  In  complexion  she  could  not  be 
called  either  a  blonde  or  a  brunette  ;  although  her  dark  blue 
eyes  seemed  to  attach  her  rather  to  the  former  classification. 
She  was  one  of  the  few  beautiful  women  I  have  seen,  whose 
beauty  was  not  marred  by  a  besetting  self-consciousness  of 
beauty,  betrayed  in  every  look  and  movement,  and  even  in  the 
tones  of  the  voice.  In  respect  to  her  personal  charms  Estelle 
was  as  unconscious  as  a  moss-rose. 

Mrs.  Dufour  was  an  invalid,  selfish,  parsimonious,  and  exact- 
ing ;  but  Estelle,  in  devotion  to  that  lady's  service  and  in  adap- 
tation to  her  caprices,  showed  a  patience  and  a  tact  so  admira- 
ble that  it  was  difficult  to  guess  whether  they  were  the  result  of 
sincere  affection  or  of  a  simple  sense  of  duty. 

Henri,  my  pupil  in  music,  was  a  youth  of  sixteen,  who  inher- 
ited not  only  his  mother's  morbid  constitution,  but  her  ungen- 
erous qualities  of  heart  and  temper.  Arrogant  and  vain,  he 
seemed  to  regard  me  in  the  light  of  a  menial,  and  I  could  not 
find  in  him  intellect  enough  to  make  him  sensible  of  his  folly. 

I  spent  my  last  twenty  dollars  in  advertising ;  but  no  new 
pupil  appeared  in  answer  to  my  insinuating  appeal.  My  ward- 
robe began  to  get  impaired ;  my  broadcloth  to  lose  its  nap,  and 
my  linen  to  give  evidence  of  premeditated  poverty.  One  day 
I  marvellei  at  finding  in  my  drawer  a  shirt  completely  reno- 
vated, with  new  wristbands,  bosom,  and  collar.  The  next  week 
the  miracle  was  repeated.  Had  Mrs.  Dufour  opened  her  heart 
and  her  purse  ?  Impossible  !  Had  Jane,  my  washerwoman, 
slyly  performed  the  service  ?  She  honestly  denied  it.  I  pur- 
sued my  investigations  no  further. 

*  The  next  Sunday,  in  putting  on  my  best  pantaloons,  I  found 
in  the  right  pocket  two  gold  quarter-eagles.  Yes !  There 
could  now  be  no  doubt.  I  had  misjudged  IVIrs.  Dufour.  Her 
stinginess  was  all  a  pretence.  Touched  with  gratitude,  yet  hu- 
miliated, I  went  to  return  the  gold.  It  was  plain  that  Madame 
knew  nothing  about  it.  I  looked  at  Estelle,  who  sat  at  a  win- 
dow mending  a  muslin  collar. 

"  Can  you  explain,  Mademoiselle  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Explain  what  ?  "  she  inquired,  as  if  she  had  been  too  ab- 
sorbed in  her  own  thoughts  to  hear  a  word  of  the  conversation. 

"  Can  you  explain  how  those  gold  pieces  came  into  my 
pocket?" 


112  PECULIAR. 

Without  the  least  sign  of  guilt,  she  replied,  "  I  cannot  ex- 
plain, sir." 

Was  she  deceiving  me  ?  I  thought  not.  Though  we  had 
met  twice  a  day  at  meals  for  weeks,  her  demeanor  towards  me 
had  been  always  distant  and  reserved. 

It  was  my  habit  daily,  after  giving  a  morning  lesson  to  my 
pupil,  to  walk  a  couple  of  hours  on  the  Levee.  One  forenoon, 
on  account  of  the  heat  of  the  weather,  I  returned  home  an  hour 
earlier  than  usual.  Henri  and  his  mother  were  out  riding.  As 
I  entered  the  house  I  heard  the  sound  of  the  piano,  and  stopped 
in  the  hall  to  listen.     It  was  Estelle  at  the  instrument. 

I  had  left  on  the  music-stand  a  rough  score  of  my  arrange- 
ment of  that  remarkable  composition,  then  newly  published  in 
Europe,  the  music  and  words  of  which  Colonel  Festal  wrote 
with  a  link  of  his  fetters  on  his  prison-wall  the  day  before  his 
execution.  I  had  translated  the  original  song,  and  M-ritten  it  on 
the  same  page  with  the  music.  What  was  my  astonishment  to 
hear  the  whole  piece,  —  this  new  De  Profimdis,  this  mortal  cry 
from  the  depths  of  a  proud,  indignant  heart,  —  a  cry  condensed 
by  music  into  tones  the  most  apt  and  fervid,  —  now  reproduced 
by  Estelle  with  such  passionate  power,  such  reality  of  emotion, 
that  I  was  struck  at  once  with  admiration  and  with  horror. 

They  were  not,  then,  for  Festal  so  much  as  for  Estelle,  — 
those  utterances  of  holy  wrath  and  angelic  defiance  !  The 
words  by  themselves  are  simple,  —  commonplace,  if  you  wiU.* 

*  We  subjoin  one  of  the  various  translations:  — 
"  Yes,  it  comes  at  last! 

And  from  a  troubled  dream  awaking, 
Death  will  soon  be  past, 

And  brighter  day  around  me  breaking! 
Hark !  methinks  I  hear  celestial  voices  say, 
Soon  thou  shalt  be  free,  child  of  misen,-,  — 
Rest  and  perfect  joy  in  heaven  are  waiting  thee ; 
Spirit,  plume  thy  wings  and  flee ! 

*'  Yes !  the  strife  is  o'er, 

With  all  its  pangs,  with  all  its  sorrow; 
Hope  shall  droop  no  more, 

For  heavenly  day  will  dawn  to-morrow ! 

Proud  Oppression,  vain  thy  utmost  tyranny! 

Come  and  thou  shalt  see,  I  can  smile  at  thee ! 

Mine  shall  be  the  triumph,  mine  the  victory,  — 

Death  but  sets  the  captive  free!  " 


THE   STORY   OF   ESTELLE.  113 

But,  conveyed  to  the  ear  through  Pestal's  music  and  Estelle's 
voice,  they  seemed  vivid  with  the  very  lightning  of  the  soul. 
As  she  sang,  the  victim  towered  above  the  ojipressor  like  an 
archangel  above  a  fiend.  The  prison-walls  fell  outward,  and 
the  welcoming  heavens  opened  to  the  triumphant  captive. 

I  entered  the  room.  She  turned  suddenly.  Her  face  had 
not  yet  recovered  from  the  expression  of  those  emotions  which 
the  song  had  called  up.  She  rose  with  the  air  of  an  avenging 
goddess.  Then,  seeing  me,  she  drew  up  her  clasped  hands  to 
her  bosom  with  a  gesture  full  of  grace  and  eloquent  with 
deprecation,  and  said,  "  Forgive  me  if  I  have  disturbed  your 
papers." 

"  Estelle  ! "  I  began.  Then,  seeing  her  look  of  surprise,  I 
said,  "  Excuse  me  if  the  address  is  too  familiar ;  but  I  know 
you  by  no  other  name." 

"  Estelle  is  all  sufficient,"  she  replied. 

"  Well,  then,  Estelle,  you  have  moved  me  by  your  singing  as 
I  was  never  moved  before, — so  terribly  in  earnest  did  you 
seem  !     What  does  it  mean  ?  " 

"  It  means,"  she  replied,  "  that  you  have  adapted  the  music 
to  a  faithful  translation  of  the  words." 

"  I  have  heard  you  play,"  said  I,  "  but  why  have  you  kept 
me  in  ignorance  of  your  powers  as  a  singer  ?  " 

"  My  powers,  such  as  they  are,"  she  said,  "  have  been  rarely 
used  since  I  left  the  convent.  I  can  give  little  time  now 
to  music.  Indeed,  the  hour  I  have  given  to  it  this  morning 
was  stolen,  and  I  must  make  up  for  it.     So  good  by." 

"  Stay,  Estelle,"  said  I,  seizing  her  hand.  "  There  is  a  mys- 
tery which  hangs  over  you  like  a  cloud.  Tell  me  what  it  is. 
Your  eyes  look  as  if  a  storm  of  unshed  tears  were  brooding 
behind  them.  Your  expression  is  always  sad.  Can  I  in  any 
way  help  you  ?     Can  I  render  a  true  brother's  service  ?  " 

She  stood,  looking  me  in  the  face,  and  it  was  plain,  from  a 
certain  convulsed  effort  at  deglutition,  that  she  was  striving  to 
swallow  back  the  big  grief  that  heaved  itself  up  from  her  heart. 
She  wavered  as  if  half  inclined  to  reveal  something.  There 
was  the  noise  of  a  carriage  at  the  door ;  and,  pressing  my  hand 
gently,  she  said,  with  an  effort  at  a  smile  that  should  have  been 
a  sob,  "  Thank  you  ;  you  cannot  —  help  me ;  my  mistress  is 

u 


114  PECULL\R. 

at  the  door ;  good  by."  And  dropping  my  hand,  slie  glided 
out  of  the  room, 

I  can  never  forget  her  as  she  then  appeared  in  her  virginal, 
spring-like  beauty,  with  her  profuse  silky  hair  parted  plainly 
in  front,  and  folded  in  a  classic  knot  behind,  with  her  dress  of 
a  light  gauze-like  material,  and  an  unworked  muslin  collar 
about  her  neck  having  a  simple  blue  ribbon  passmg  under  it 
and  fastened  in  front  with  a  little  cross  of  gold.  How  unpre- 
tending and  unadorned,  —  and  yet  what  a  charm  was  lent  to  her 
whole  attire  by  her  consummate  grace  of  person  and  of  action  ! 

Mrs.  Dufour  entered,  and  I  did  not  see  Estelle  again  that 
day. 


It  was  that  fearful  summer  when  the  fever  seemed  to  be 
indiscriminate  in  its  ravages.  Not  only  transient  visitors  in 
the  city,  but  old  residents  long  acclimated,  natives  of  the  city, 
physicians  and  nui'ses,  were  smitten  down.  Many  fled  from 
the  pest-ridden  precincts.  Whole  blocks  of  houses  were  de- 
serted. There  were  few  doors  at  which  Death  did  not  knock 
for  one  or  more  of  the  inmates. 

My  pupil,  Henri  Dufour,  was  taken  iU  on  a  Saturday,  and 
on  Wednesday  his  mortal  remains  were  conveyed  to  the  ceme- 
tery. I  had  tended  him  day  and  night,  and  was  much  worn 
down  by  watchings  and  anxiety.  Jane,  a  hired  black  domestic, 
was  wanted  by  her  owner,  and  left  us.  All  the  work  of  our 
diminished  household  now  fell  on  Estelle.  As  for  Madame 
Dufour,  she  lived  in  a  hysterical  fear  lest  the  inevitable  sum- 
moner  should  visit  her  next.  She  was  continually  imagining 
that  the  symptoms  were  upon  her.  One  day  she  fell  into  an 
unusual  state  of  alarm.  I  was  alone  with  her  in  the  house. 
Estelle  had  gone  out  without  asking  permission,  —  an  extraor- 
dinary event.  I  did  what  I  could  for  the  invalid,  and,  by  her 
direction,  called  in  a  physician  whose  carriage  she  had  seen 
standing  at  a  neighboring  door. 

The  poor  little  doctor  seemed  flurried  and  overworked,  and 
an  odor  of  brandy  came  from  his  breath.  He  assured  IVIi-s. 
Dufour  that  her  Symptoms  were  wholly  of  the  imagination,  and 
that  if  she  would  keep  ti-anquil,  all  danger  would  speedily  pass. 


THE   STORY   OF  ESTELLE.  115 

He  administered  a  dose  of  laudanum.  It  afterwards  occurred 
to  me  that  he  had  given  three  times  the  usual  quantity.  He 
received  his  fee  and  departed;  and  I  sat  down  behind  the 
curtain  of  an  alcove  so  as  to  be  within  call. 

Three  minutes  had  not  elapsed  when  Estelle  burst  into  the 
room,  and  in  a  voice  low  and  husky,  as  if  with  overpowering 
agitation,  exclaimed  :  "  You  have  deceived  me,  Madame  !  Mr. 
Serames  tells  me  you  never  gave  him  any  orders  about  a  will. 
Do  you  mean  to  cheat  me  ?  Beware  !  Tell  me  this  instant ! 
tell  me  !     Will  you  do  it  ?     Will  you  do  it  ?  " 

"  Estelle  !  how  can  you  ?  "  whined  Mrs.  Dufour.  "  At  such 
a  time,  when  the  slightest  agitation  may  bring  on  the  fever, 
how  can  you  trouble  me  on  such  a  subject  ?  " 

"  No  evasion !  "  exclaimed  Estelle,  in  imperious  tones.  "  I 
demand  it,  —  I  exact  it,  —  now  —  this  instant !  You  shall  —  you 
shall  perform  it !  " 

Madame  had  some  vague  superstitious  notion  connected  with 
the  signing  of  a  will,  and  she  murmured  :  "  I  shall  do  nothing  at 
present ;  I  'm  not  in  a  state  to  sign  my  name.  The  doctor 
said  I  must  be  tranquil.  How  can  you  be  so  selfish,  Estelle  ? 
Do  you  imagine  I  'm  going  to  die,  that  you  are  so  urgent  just 
now  ?  " 

"  You  told  me  three  months  ago,"  replied  Estelle,  "  that  the 
will  had  been  regularly  signed  and  witnessed.  You  lied !  If 
you  now  refuse  to  make  amends,  do  not  hope  for  peace  either 
in  this  world  or  the  next.  No  priest  shall  attend  you  here,  and 
my  curses  shall  pursue  you  down  to  hell  to  double  the  damna- 
tion your  sin  deserves  !     Will  you  sign,  if  I  bring  the  notary  ?  " 

Mrs.  Dufour  began  to  moan,  and  complain  of  her  symptoms, 
while  I  could  hear  Estelle  pacing  the  room  like  a  caged  tigress. 
Suddenly  she  stood  still,  and  cried,  "  Do  you  still  refuse  ?  " 

The  moaning  of  the  invalid  had  been  succeeded  by  a  sterto- 
rous breathing,  as  if  she  had  been  suddenly  overcome  by  sleep. 

"  She  is  stone,  —  stone !  She  sleeps  !  —  she  has  no  heart ! " 
groaned  Estelle. 

I  now  left  the  alcove.  Estelle  knelt  weeping  with  her  face 
on  the  sofa.  I  touched  her  on  the  head,  and  she  started  up 
alarmed.  She  saw  tears  of  sympathy  on  my  cheek.  I  drew 
her  away  with  my  arm  about  her  waist,  and  siiid,  "  Come ! 
come  and  tell  mc  all." 


116  PECULIAR. 

She  let  me  lead  her  down-stairs  into  the  parlor.  I  placed 
her  in  an  arm-chair,  and  sat  on  a  low  ottoman  at  her  feet. 
"  Tell  me  all,  Estelle,"  I  repeated.     "  What  does  it  mean  ?  " 

I  then  drew  from  her  these  facts.  Her  mother,  though  un- 
distin^uishable  from  a  white  woman,  had  been  a  slave  belong- 
ing to  a  Mr.  Huger,  a  sugar-planter.  She  was  reputed  to  be 
the  daughter  of  what  the  Creoles  call  a  meamelouc,  that  is,  the 
offspring  of  a  white  man  and  a  metif  mother,  a  metif  being 
the  offspring  of  a  white  and  a  quarteron.  This  account  of  the 
genealogy  of  Estelle's  mother  I  never  had  occasion  to  doubt 
till  years  afterwards.  The  father  of  Estelle  was  Albert  Gran- 
deau,  a  young  Parisian  of  good  family.  Being  suddenly  called 
home  from  Louisiana  to  France  by  the  death  of  his  parents, 
he  left  America,  promising  to  return  the  following  winter,  and 
purchase  the  prospective  mother  of  his  child  and  take  her  to 
Paris.  This  he  honestly  intended  to  do ;  but  alas  for  good  in- 
tentions! It  is  good  deeds  only  that  are  secure  against  the 
caprices  of  Fate.  The  vessel  in  which  Grandeau  sailed  foun- 
dered at  sea,  and  he  was  among  the  lost.  Estelle's  mother 
died  in  child-birth. 

And  then  Estelle,  —  on  the  well-known  principle  of  Southern 
law,  ^'proles  sequitur  ventrem,''  —  in  spite  of  her  fair  complex- 
ion, was  a  slave.  Mr.  Huger  dying,  she  fell  to  the  portion  of 
his  unmarried  daughter,  Louise,  who  was  a  member  of  the 
newly  established  Convent  of  St.  Vivia.  She  took  Estelle, 
then  a  mere  child,  with  her  to  bring  up.  Fortunately  for  Es- 
telle, there  were  highly  accomplished  ladies  in  the  convent,  to 
whom  it  was  at  once  a  delight  and  a  duty  to  instruct  the  little 
giii.  French,  English,  and  Italian  were  soon  all  equally  famil- 
iar to  her,  and  before  she  was  seventeen  she  surpassed,  in 
needlework  and  music,  even  her  teachers.  But  the  convent 
of  St.  Vivia  had  been  cheated  in  the  title  of  its  estate ;  and 
thi'ough  failure  of  funds,  it  was  at  length  broken  up.  Soon 
afterwards,  Louise  Huger,  whose  health  had  always  been  feeble, 
died  suddenly,  leaving  Estelle  to  her  sister,  Mrs.  Dufour,  with 
the  request  that  measures  should  be  at  once  taken  to  secure 
the  maiden's  freedom,  in  the  contingency  of  Mrs.  Dufour's  de- 
mise. It  was  the  fiiilure  of  the  latter  to  take  the  proper  steps 
for  Estelle's  manumission  that  now  roused  her  anger  and 
anxiety. 


THE  STORY  OF  ESTELLE. 


117 


These  disclosures  on  the  part  of  Estelle  awoke  in  me  conflict- 
ing emotions. 

Shall  I  confess  it?  Such  was  the  influence  of  education,  of 
inherited  prejudice,  and  of  social  proscription,  that  when  she 
told  me  she  was  a  slave,  I  shuddered  as  a  high-caste  Brahmhi 
midit  when  he  finds  that  the  man  he  has  taken  by  the  hand  is 
a  Pariah.  Estelle  was  too  keen  of  penetration  not  to  detect  it ; 
and  she  drew  her  robe  away  from  my  touch,  and  moved  her 
chair  back  a  little. 

My  ancestors,  with  the  exception  of  my  father,  had  been 
slaveholders  ever  since  1625.  I  had  lived  all  my  life  in  a 
community  where  slavery  was  held  a  righteous  and  a  necessary 
institution.  I  had  never  allowed  myself  to  question  its  policy 
or  its  justice.  Skepticism  as  to  a  God  or  a  future  state  was 
venial,  nay,  rather  fashionable;  but  woe  to  the  youth  who 
should  play  the  Pyrrhonist  in  the  matter  of  slavery  ! 

Yet  it  was  not  fear,  it  was  not  self-interest,  that  made  me 
acquiesce  ;  it  was  simply  a  failure  to  exercise  my  proper  powers 
of  thought.  I  took  the  word  of  others,  —  of  interested  parties, 
of  social  charlatans,  of  sordid,  self-stultified  fanatics,  —  that  the 
system  was  the  best  possible  one  that  could  be  conceived  of, 
both  for  blacks  and  whites.  From  the  false  social  atmosphere 
in  which  I  had  grown  up  I  had  derived  the  accretions  that  went 
to  build  up  and  solidify  my  moral  being. 

And  so  if  St.  Paul  or  Fenelon,  Shakespeare  or  Newton,  had 
come  to  me  with  ebonized  faces,  I  should  have  refused  them 
the  privileges  of  an  equal.  To  such  folly  are  we  shaped  by 
what  we  passively  receive  from  society  !  To  such  outrages  on 
justice  and  common  sense  are  we  reconciled  simply  by  the 
inertness  of  our  brains,  not  to  speak  of  the  hoUowness  of  our 
hearts ! 

Estelle  paused,  and  almost  despaired,  when  she  saw  the  effect 
upon  me  of  her  confession.  But  I  pressed  her  to  a  conclusion 
of  her  story,  and  then  asked,  "  Who  has  any  claim  upon  you, 
in  the  event  of  Madame  Dufour's  dying  intestate  ?  " 

"  Nearly  all  her  property,"  replied  Estelle,  "  is  mortgaged  to 
her  nephew,  Carberry  Ratcliff;  and  he  is  her  only  heir." 
"  Give  me  some  account  of  him." 
"  He  is  a  South  Carolinian  by  birth.     Some  years  ago  he 


118  PECULIAR. 

married  a  Creole  lady,  by  whom  lie  got  a  fine  cotton-plantation 
on  the  Red  River,  stocked  with  several  hundred  slaves.  He 
has  a  house  and  garden  in  Lafayette,  but  lives  most  of  the 
time  on  his  plantation  at  Loraine." 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  him  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  the  first  time  only  ten  days  ago,  and  he  has  been 
here  four  times  since  to  call  on  Madame  Dufour,  though  he 
rarely  used  to  visit  her  oflener  than  twice  a  year." 

As  Estelle  spoke,  her  eyes  flashed,  and  her  breast  heaved. 

"  How  did  he  behave  to  you,  Estelle  ?  " 

"  How  should  the  lord  of  a  plantation  behave  to  a  comely 
female  slave  ?  Of  course  he  insulted  me  both  with  looks  and 
words.  TThat  more  could  you  expect  of  such  a  connoisseur  in 
flesh  and  blood  as  the  planter  who  recruits  his  gangs  at  slave- 
auctions  ?     Do  not  ask  me  how  he  behaved." 

I  rose,  deeply  agitated,  and  paced  the  room. 

"  What  sort  of  a  looking  man  is  this  ISLr.  RatcliiBf  ?  " 

She  went  to  an  etagere  in  a  comer,  opened  a  little  box,  and 
took  from  it  a  daguerrotype,  which  she  placed  in  my  hand. 

Looking  at  the  likeness,  I  recognized  the  man  who  once  in- 
sulted me  at  the  theatre. 

"  I  must  go  and  attend  to  Madame  Dufour,"  said  Estelle. 

"  Let  me  accompany  you,"  said  I. 

She  made  no  objection.  We  went  together  into  the  chamber. 
Estelle  nished  to  the  bedside,  —  shook  the  invalid,  —  called  her 
aloud  by  name,  —  put  her  ear  down  to  learn  if  she  breathed,  — 
put  her  hand  on  the  breast  to  find  if  the  heart  beat,  —  then 
turned  to  me,  and  shrieked,  "  She  is  dead !  " 

What  was  to  be  done  ? 

I  led  Estelle  into  the  parlor.  She  sat  down.  Her  face  was 
of  a  frightful  pallor ;  but  there  was  not  the  trace  of  a  tear 
in  her  eyes.  The  expression  was  that  of  blank,  unmitigated 
despair. 

"  Poor,  poor  child !  "  I  murmui-ed.  "  What  can  I  do  for 
her  ?    Estelle,  you  must  be  saved,  —  but  how  ?  " 

My  words  and  my  look  seemed  to  inspire  her  with  a  hope. 
She  rose,  sank  upon  both  knees  before  me,  lifted  up  her 
clasped  hands,  and  said :  "  0  sir !  O  ISIr.  Carteret !  as  you 
are  a  man,  as  you  reverence  the  recollection  of  your  mother, 


THE  STORY  OF  ESTELLE.  119 

save  me,  —  save  me  from  the  consequences  of  this  death ! 
I  am  now  the  slave  of  Mr.  Ratcliff ;  and  what  that  involves 
to  me  you  can  guess,  but  I,  without  a  new  agony,  cannot  ex- 
plain. Save  me,  dear  sir  !  Good  sir,  kind  sir,  for  God's  love, 
save  me  !  "  And  then,  with  a  wild  cry  of  despair,  she  added : 
"  I  will  be  yours,  —  body  and  soul,  I  will  be  yours,  if  you  will 
only  save  me  !  I  will  be  your  slave,  —  your  anything,  —  only 
let  me  belong  to  one  I  can  love  and  respect.  Do  not,  do  not 
cast  me  off! " 

"  Cast  you  off,  dear  child  ?  Never  ! "  said  I,  and,  raising  her 
to  her  feet,  I  kissed  her  forehead. 

That  fii'st  kiss  !  How  shall  I  analyze  it  ?  It  was  pure  and 
tender  as  a  mother's,  notwithstanding  the  utter  abandonment 
signified  in  the  maiden's  words.  That  very  self-surrender  was 
her  security.  Had  she  been  shy,  I  might  have  been  less  cold. 
But  her  look  of  disappointment  showed  she  attributed  that 
coldness  to  some  less  flattering  cause,  —  plainly  to  indifference, 
if  not  to  personal  dishke.  She  could  not  detect  in  me  the  first 
symptom  of  what  she  instinctively  knew  would  be  a  guaranty 
of  my  protection,  stronger  than  duty. 

Like  all  the  slaves  and  descendants  of  slaves  in  Louisiana,  of 
all  grades  of  color,  she  had  been  bred  up  to  a  knowledge  that 
it  was  a  consequence  of  her  condition  that  there  could  be  no 
marriage  union  between  her  and  a  respectable  white  man.  Im- 
pressed with  this  conviction,  she  had  pleaded  to  be  allowed  to 
remain  in  some  convent,  though  it  were  but  as  a  servant,  for  the 
remainder  of  her  life.  The  selfishness  of  her  mistress  and  owner, 
Miss  Huger,  put  it  out  of  her  power  to  make  this  choice  effec- 
tual. Her  kind-hearted  Catholic  instructors  consoled  her,  as 
well  as  they  could,  by  the  assurance  that,  being  a  slave,  the  sin 
of  any  mode  of  life  to  which  she  might  be  forced  would  be 
attended  with  absolution.  But  she  had  the  horror  which  every 
pure  nature,  strong  in  the  affections,  must  feel,  under  like  cir- 
cumstances, at  the  prospect  of  constraint.  Since  her  life  was  to 
be  that  of  a  slaye,  O  that  her  master  might  be  one  she  could 
love,  and  who  could  love  her !  The  first  part  of  the  dream 
would  be  realized  if  I  could  buy  her.  Wliat  misery  to  think 
that  the  latter  part  must  remain  unfulfilled  ! 

I  led  her  to  a  chair.     She  sat  down  and  burst  into  a  passion 


120  .  PECULIAR. 

of  tears.  In  vain  I  tried  to  console  her  by  words.  Supporting 
her  head  with  one  liand,  I  then  with  the  other  smoothed  back 
the  beautiful  hair  from  her  forehead.  Gradually  she  became 
calm.  I  knelt  beside  her,  and  said :  "  Estelle,  compose  yourself. 
I  promise  you  I  will  risk  everything,  life  itself,  to  save  you 
from  the  fate  you  abhor.  Now  summon  your  best  faculties, 
and  let  us  together  devise  some  plan  of  proceeding." 

She  lifted  my  hand  to  her  lips  in  gratitude,  made  me  take  a 
seat  by  her  side,  and  said :  "  Mr.  Ratcliff  or  his  agent  may  be 
here  any  minute,  and  then  you  would  be  powerless.  The  first 
step  is  to  leave  this  house,  and  seek  concealment." 

"  Do  you  know  any  place  of  refuge  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  I  know  a  mulatto  woman,  named  ^Mallet,  who  has  a 
little  stall  on  Poydras  Street  for  the  sale  of  baskets.  She  occu- 
pies a  small  tenement  near  by,  and  has  two  spare  rooms.  I 
think  we  can  trust  her,  for  I  once  tended  one  of  her  children 
who  died  ;  and  she  does  not  know  that  I  am  a  slave." 

"  But,  Estelle,  I  gi-ieve  to  say  it,  —  I  am  poor,  almost  des- 
titute. My  friends  are  chiefly  theatrical  people,  poor  like 
myself,  and  most  of  them  are  North  at  this  season." 

"  Do  not  let  that  distress  you,"  she  said  ;  "  I  am  the  owner 
of  a  gold  watch,  for  which  we  can  get  at  least  fifty  dollars." 

"  And  mine  will  bring  another  fifty,"  returned  I.  "  Let  us 
go,  then,  at  once,  since  here  you  are  in  danger." 

An  old  negro,  well  known  to  the  family,  and  who  carried 
round  oranges  for  sale,  at  tliis  moment  stopped  at  the  door.  I 
gave  him  a  dollar,  on  condition  that  he  would  occupy  and  guard 
the  house  till  some  one  should  come  to  relieve  him.  I  then, 
at  Estelle's  suggestion,  sent  a  letter  to  the  Superintendent  of 
Burials,  announcing  Madame  Dufour's  death,  and  requesting 
him  to  attend  to  the  interment.  I  also  enclosed  the  address  of 
Mr,  E-atcliff  and  ]\Ir.  Semmes  as  the  persons  who  would  see  all 
expenses  paid.     To  this  I  signed  my  real  name. 

It  was  agreed  that  Estelle  should  leave  at  once.  She  gave 
me  written  directions  for  finding  our  place  of  rendezvous. 
There  was  before  it  an  old  magnolia-tree  which  I  was  particu- 
larly to  note.  I  was  to  follow  soon  with  such  articles  of  attire, 
belonging  to  her  and  to  myself,  as  I  could  bring,  and  I  was  to 
return  for  more  if  necessary.      "We  parted,  and  I  think  she 


THE  STORY  OF  ESTELLE.  121 

must  have  read  something  not  sinister  in  the  expression  of  my 
face,  for  her  own  suddenly  brightened,  and,  with  a  smile  ineffa- 
bly sweet  in  its  thankfulness,  she  said,  "  Au  revoir  !  " 

Our  plans  were  all  successfully  carried  out.  The  wardrobe 
of  neither  of  us  was  extensive.  Two  visits  to  the  house  enabled 
me  to  remove  all  that  we  required.  My  letter  to  the  Superin- 
tendent of  Burials  I  had  dropped  into  his  box,  and  that  after- 
noon I  saw  him  enter  the  house,  so  that  I  knew  the  proper 
attentions  to  the  dead  would  not  be  wanting. 

Mrs.  Mallet  gladly  received  us  on  our  own  terms.  Estelle 
had  appropriated  for  me  the  better  of  the  two  little  rooms,  and 
had  arranged  and  decked  it  so  as  to  wear  an  appearance  of 
neatness  and  comfort,  if  not  of  luxury.  I  expostulated,  but 
she  would  not  listen  to  my  occupying  the  inferior  apartment. 
Her  own  preferences  must  rule. 

Ever  dear  to  memory  must  be  that  first  evening  in  our  new 
abode !  There  was  one  old  fauteuil  in  her  room,  and,  placing 
Estelle  in  that,  I  sat  on  a  low  trunk  by  her  side,  where  I  could 
lean  my  elbow  on  the  arm  of  the  chair.  It  was  a  warm,  but 
not  oppressive  July  evening,  with  a  bright  moon.  The  window 
was  open,  and  in  the  little  area  upon  which  it  looked  a  lemon- 
tree  rustled  as  the  breeze  swelled,  now  and  then,  to  a  whis- 
per. 

"We  were  alone.  I  asked  a  thousand  questions.  I  extorted 
the  secret  of  my  mended  clothes  and  the  mysterious  gold  pieces. 
That  air  of  depression  which  had  always  been  so  marked  in 
Estelle  had  vanished.  She  spoke  and  looked  like  a  new  being. 
I  put  a  question  in  French,  and  she  answ^ered  in  that  language 
with  a  fluency  and  a  purity  of  accent  that  put  me  to  the  blush 
for  my  own  lingual  shortcomings.  I  spoke  of  books,  and  was 
surprised  to  find  in  her  a  bold,  detective  taste  in  recognizing 
the  peculiarities,  and  penetrating  to  the  spiritual  life,  of  the 
higher  class  of  thinkers  and  literary  artists,  whether  French, 
EngUsh,  or  American. 

I  asked  her  to  sing.  In  subdued  tones,  but  with  an  exquisite 
accuracy,  she  sang  some  of  the  favorite  airs  by  Mozart,  Bel- 
lini, and  Donizetti,  using  the  Italian  as  if  it  were  her  native 
tongue. 

And  there,  in  that  atmosphere  of  death,  while  the  surround- 


122  PECULIAR. 

ing  population  were  being  decimated  by  the  terrible  pestilence, 
I  drank  in  my  first  draughts  of  an  imperishable  love. 

I  looked  at  my  watch.  It  was  half  an  hour  after  midnight. 
How  had  the  hours  slipped  by  !    We  must  part. 

"  Estelle  I  "  I  exclaimed  with  emotion ;  but  I  could  not  put 
into  words  what  I  had  intended  to  say.  Then,  taking  her  hand, 
I  added,  "  You  have  given  me  the  most  delightful  evening  of 
ray  life." 

No  light  was  burning  in  the  room,  but  by  the  moonbeams  I 
could  see  her  face  all  luminous  with  joy  and  triumph.  My 
second  kiss  was  bestowed ;  but  this  time  it  was  on  her  lips,  — 
brief,  but  impassioned.  "  Good  night,  Estelle  ! "  I  whispered  ; 
and,  forcing  myself  instantly  away,  I  closed  the  door. 

I  entered  my  apartment,  and  went  to  bed,  but  not  to  sleep. 
Tears  that  I  could  not  repress  gushed  forth.  A  strange  rapture 
possessed  me.  Nature  had  proved  itself  stronger  than  con- 
vention. The  impulsive  heart  was  more  than  a  match  for  the 
calculating  head.  For  the  fii-st  time  in  my  life  I  saw  the  new 
heavens  and  the  new  earth  which  love  brings  in.  Estelle 
now  seemed  all  the  dearer  to  me  for  her  very  helplessness,  — 
for  the  degradation  and  isolation  in  which  slavery  had  placed 
her.  Were  she  a  princess,  could  I  love  her  half  as  well  ?  But 
she  shall  be  treated  with  all  the  consideration  due  to  a  piincess ! 
Passion  shall  take  no  advantage  of  her  friendlessness  and  self- 
abandonment. 

Then  came  thoughts  of  the  danger  she  was  in,  —  of  what  I 
should  do  for  her  rescue ;  and  it  was  not  till  light  dawned  in 
the  east  that  I  fell  into  a  slumber. 

We  gave  up  nearly  the  whole  of  the  next  day  to  the  discussion 
of  plans.  In  pui^uance  of  that  on  which  we  finally  fixed, 
Estelle  wrote  a  letter  to  jSIr.  Katcliff  in  these  words  :  — 

"  To  Carberrt  Ratcliff,  Esq. :  —  Sii- :  By  the  time  this  let- 
ter reaches  you  I  shall  be  out  of  your  power,  and  with  my  free- 
dom assured.  Still  I  desii-e  to  be  at  liberty  to  return  to  New 
Orleans,  if  I  should  so  elect,  and  therefore  I  request  you  to  name 
the  sum  in  consideration  of  which  you  will  give  me  free  papers. 
A  friend  will  negotiate  with  you.  Let  that  friend  have  your 
answer,  if  you  please,  in  the  form  of  an  advertisement  in  the 
Picayime,  addressed  to  Estelle." 


THE  STOKY  OF  ESTELLE.  123 

Two  days  afterwards  we  found  the  following  answer  in  the 
newspaper  named :  — 

"  To  EsTELLE :  For  fifty  dollars,  I  will  give  you  the  papers 
you  desire.  C.  R." 

Long  and  anxiously  we  meditated  on  this  reply.  I  dreaded 
a  trap.  Was  it  not  most  likely  that  Ratcliff,  in  naming  so  low 
a  figure,  hoped  to  secure  some  clew  to  the  whereabouts  of 
Estelle  ? 

While  I  was  puzzling  myself  with  the  question,  Estelle  sug- 
gested an  expedient.  The  answer  to  the  advertisement  un- 
doubtedly came  from  Ratcliff,  and  we  had  a  right  to  regard  it 
as  valid.  Why  not  address  a  letter,  with  fifty  dollars,  to  Rat- 
cliff,  and  have  it  legally  registered  at  the  post-office  ? 
"  Admirable  !  "  exclaimed  T,  delighted  at  her  quickness. 
"  No,  it  is  not  admirable,"  she  replied.  "  An  objection  sug- 
gests itself  Some  one  will  have  to  go  to  the  post-office  to 
register  the  letter,  and  he  may  be  known  or  tracked." 

I  reflected  a  moment,  and  then  said :  "  I  think  I  can  guard 
against  such  a  danger.  Having  been  an  actor,  I  am  expert  at 
disguises.     I  will  go  as  an  old  man." 

The  plan  was  approved  and  put  into  effect.  The  two  watches 
were  disposed  of  at  a  jeweller's  for  a  hundred  and  ten  dollars. 
In  an  altered  hand  I  wrote  Ratcliff  a  letter,  enclosed  in  it  a  fifty- 
dollar  bill,  and  bade  him  direct  his  answer  simply  to  Estelle 
Grandeau,  Cincinnati,  Ohio.  I  added  one  dollar  for  the  pur- 
pose of  covering  any  expense  he  might  be  at  for  postage.  Then, 
at  the  shop  of  a  theatrical  costumer,  I  disguised  myself  as  a  man 
of  seventy,  and  went  to  the  post-office.  There  I  had  the  letter 
and  its  contents  of  money  duly  registered. 

As  I  was  returning  home  in  my  disguise,  I  saw  the  old  negro 
I  had  left  in  charge  at  Mrs.  Dufour's.  He  did  not  recognize 
me,  and  was  not  surprised  at  my  questions.  From  him  I 
learned,  that  before  he  left  the  house  a  gentleman  (undoubtedly 
Ratcliff)  had  called,  and  had  seemed  to  be  in  a  terrible  fury 
on  finding  that  Estelle  had  gone  away  some  hours  before  ;  but 
his  rage  had  redoubled  when  he  further  ascertained  that  a 
young  man  was  her  attendant. 

The  interesting  question  now  was.  Had  Ratcliff  any  clew  to 


124  PECULIAR. 

my  identity  ?  My  true  name,  "William  Carteret,  under  which  I 
had  been  known  at  Mrs.  Dufour's,  was  not  the  name  I  had  gone 
by  on  the  stage.  Here  was  one  security.  Still  it  was  obvious 
the  utmost  precaution  must  be  used. 

My  plans  were  speedily  laid.  Not  having  money  enough  to 
pay  the  passage  of  both  Estelle  and  myself  up  the  jVIississippi, 
I  decided  that  Estelle  should  go  alone,  disguised  as  an  old 
woman.  I  engaged  a  state-room,  and  paid  for  it  in  advance. 
I  had  much  difficulty  in  persuading  her  to  accede  to  the  arrange- 
ment, so  painful  was  the  prospect  of  a  separation;  but  she 
finally  consented.  At  my  friend  the  costumer's  I  fitted  her 
out  in  a  plain,  Quaker-like  dress.  She  was  to  be  IMrs.  Carver, 
a  schoolmistress,  going  North.  The  next  morning  I  covered 
her  beautiful  hair  with  a  grayish  wig  ;  and  then,  by  the  aid  of  a 
hare's  foot  and  some  pigments,  added  wrinkles  and  a  complex- 
ion suitable  to  a  maiden  lady  of  fifty.  With  a  veil  over  her 
face,  she  would  not  be  suspected. 

The  hour  of  parting  came.  I  put  a  plain  gold  ring  on  her 
finger.  "  Be  constant,"  I  said.  "  Forever ! "  she  solemnly 
replied,  pressing  the  ring  to  her  lips  with  tears  of  delight. 
The  carriage  was  at  the  door.  The  farewell  kiss  was  ex- 
changed. Her  little  trunk  was  put  on  the  driver's  foot-board. 
IMrs.  Mallet  entered  and  took  a  seat,  and  Estelle  was  about  to 
follow,  when  suddenly  a  faintness  seized  me.  She  detected  it  at 
once,  turned  back,  and  exclaimed  in  alarm :  "  You  are  not  well. 
What  is  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  that  a  glass  of  wine  will  not  cure,"  I  replied. 
"There!  It  is  over  already.  Do  not  delay.  Your  time  is 
limited.  Driver !  Fast,  but  steady  !  Here  's  a  dollar  for  you ! 
There  !     Step  in,  EsteUe." 

She  looked  at  me  hesitatingly.  I  summoned  all  my  will  to 
check  my  increasing  faintness.  Urging  her  into  the  can-iage,  I 
closed  the  door,  and  the  horses  started.  Estelle  watched  me 
from  the  window,  till  an  angle  in  the  street  hid  me  from  her 
view.  Then,  staggering  into  the  house,  I  crawled  up-staii-s  to 
my  chamber,  and  sank  upon  the  bed. 


The  next  ten  days  were  a  blank  to  consciousness.     Fever 


THE  STORY   OF  ESTELLE.  125 

and  delirium  had  the  mastery  of  my  brain.  On  the  eleventh 
morning  I  seemed  to  -wake  gradually,  as  if  from  some  anxious 
dream.  I  lay  twining  my  hands  feebly  one  over  the  other. 
Then  suddenly  a  speck  in  the  ceiling  fixed  my  attention. 
Raising  myself  on  the  pillow,  I  looked  around.  Very  gently 
and  slowly  recollection  came  back.  The  appearance  of  ]\Irs. 
Mallet  soon  seemed  a  natural  sequence.  She  smiled,  gave  an 
affirmative  shake  of  the  head,  as  if  to  tell  me  all  was  well,  and 
at  her  bidding,  I  lay  down  and  slept.  The  following  day  I  was 
strong  enough  to  inquire  after  Estelle. 

"  Be  good,  and  you  shall  see  her,"  was  the  reply. 

"  What !     Did  she  not  take  passage  in  the  boat  ?  " 

"  There  !     Do  not  be  alarmed  ;  she  will  explain  it  all." 

And  as  she  spoke,  Estelle  glided  in,  held  up  her  forefinger 
by  way  of  warning,  and,  smiling  through  her  tears,  kissed  my 
forehead.  I  felt  a  shock  of  joy,  followed  by  anxiety.  "  Why 
did  you  not  go  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  found  I  could  dispose  of  my  state-room,  and  I  did  it,  for  I 
was  too  much  concerned  about  your  health  to  go  in  peace.  It 
was  fortunate  I  returned.  You  have  had  the  fever,  but  the 
danger  is  over." 

"  How  long  have  I  lain  thus  ?  " 

«  This  is  the  twelfth  day." 

"  Have  I  had  a  physician  ?  " 

"  No  one  but  Estelle ;  but  then  she  is  an  expert ;  she  once 
walked  the  hospitals  with  the  Sisters  of  Charity." 

My  convalescence  was  rapid.  By  the  first  of  September 
I  was  well  enough  to  take  long  strolls  in  the  evening  with 
Estelle.  On  the  fifth  of  that  month,  early  one  starlit  night,  I  said 
to  her,  "  Come,  Estelle,  put  on  your  bonnet  and  shawl  for  a 
walk." 

She  brought  them  into  my  room,  and  placed  them  on  the 
bed. 

"  Where  shall  we  go  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  To  the  Rev.  IVIr.  Fulton's,"  I  replied ;  "  that  is,  if  you 
will  consent  to  be  —  " 

"  To  be  what  ?  "  she  asked,  not  dreaming  of  my  drift. 

"  To  be  married  to  me,  Estelle !  " 

The  expressions  that  flitted  over  her  face,  —  expressions  of 


126  PECULIAR. 

doubtful  rapture,  pettish  incredulity,  and  childlike  eagerness,  — 
come  back  vividly  to  my  remembrance. 

'^  You  do  not  mean  it !  "  at  length  she  murmured,  reproach- 
fully. 

"  From  my  inmost  heart  I  mean  it,  and  I  desire  it  above  all 
earthly  desires,"  I  replied. 

She  sank  to  the  floor,  and,  clasping  my  knees  with  her  arms, 
bowed  her  head  upon  them,  and  wept.  Then,  starting  up,  she 
said :  "  What  !  Your  wife  ?  Really  your  wife  ?  ^Mistress 
and  wife  in  one  ?  Me,  —  a  slave  ?  Can  it  be,  William,  you 
desire  it?" 

It  was  the  first  time  she  had  called  me  by  my  first  name. 

"  Have  you  considered  it  well  ?  "  she  continued,  "  0, 1  fear 
it  would  be  ungenerous  in  me  to  consent.  Such  an  alli- 
ance might  jeopard  all  your  future.  You  are  young,  well- 
connected,  and  can  one  day  command  all  that  the  best  society 
of  the  country  can  offer.  No,  "William,  not  for  me,  —  not  for 
me  the  position  of  your  wife ! " 

I  replied  to  these  misgivings  by  putting  on  her  shawl,  then 
her  bonnet,  the  tjmg  of  which  I  accompanied  with  a  kiss  that 
brought  the  roses  to  her  cheeks. 

"  Estelle,"  I  said,  "  unless  we  are  very  different  from  what 
we  believe,  the  step  is  one  we  shall  not  regret.  I  must  be 
degenerate  indeed^  if  I  can  ever  find  anj'thing  in  life  more  pre- 
cious than  the  love  you  give  and  inspire.  But  perhaps  you 
shrink  from  so  binding  a  tie." 

''  Shrink  from  it  ?  "  she  repeated,  in  a  tone  of  abandonment  to 
all  that  was  rapturous  and  delightful  in  her  conceptions,  though 
the  tears  gushed  from  her  eyes.  "  0,  generous  beyond  my 
dreams!  Would  I  might  prove  to  you  of  what  my  love  is 
capable,  and  how  you  have  deepened  its  mifathomable  depths 
by  this  last  proof  of  your  affection  I  " 

We  went  forth  under  the  stars  that  beautiful  evening  to  the 
well-known  minister's  house.  He  received  us  kindly,  asked  us 
several  questions,  and,  having  satisfied  himself  of  our  intelligence 
and  sincerity,  united  us  in  marriage.  We  gave  him  our  real 
names,  —  William  Carteret  and  Estelle  Grandeau,  —  and  he 
promised  to  keep  the  secret. 


THE  STORY   OF  ESTELLE.  127 

Six  weeks  flew  by,  how  swiftly!  The  pressure  which  cir- 
cumstances Imd  put  upon  Estelle's  buoyancy  of  character  being 
taken  away,  she  moved  the  very  embodiment  of  joy.  It  was 
as  if  she  was  making  up  for  the  past  repression  of  her  cheerful- 
ness by  an  overflow,  constant,  yet  gentle  as  the  superflux  of  a 
fountain.  Her  very  voice  grew  more  childlike  in  its  tones. 
A  touching  gratitude  that  never  wearied  of  making  itself  felt 
seemed  added  to  an  abounding  tenderness  towards  me. 

She  had  a  quick  sense  of  the  humorous  which  made  hers  an 
atmosphere  of  smiles.  She  would  make  me  laugh  by  the  odd 
and  childish,  yet  charming  pet  phrases  she  would  lavish  upon 
me.  She  would  amuse  me  by  her  anxiety  in  catering  for  me 
at  meal-time,  and  making  her  humble  fare  seem  sumptuous  by 
her  devices  of  speech,  as  well  as  by  her  culinary  arts.  The  good 
nuns  with  whom  she  had  lived  had  made  her  a  thorough  house- 
keeper, and  a  paragon  of  neatness.  She  wanted  further  to  be 
my  valet,  my  very  slave,  anticipating  my  wants,  and  forestall- 
ing every  little  effort  which  I  might  put  forth. 

My  object  now  was  to  raise  the  sum  necessary  for  our  depart- 
ure from  the  city.  I  took  pupils  in  music  among  the  humblest 
classes,  —  among  the  free  blacks  and  even  the  slaves.  I  would 
be  absent  from  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  till  five  in  the  after- 
noon. Estelle  aided  me  in  my  purpose.  She  learned  from 
Mi^.  Mallet  the  art  of  making  baskets,  and  contrived  some  of 
a  new  pattern  which  met  a  ready  sale.  We  began  to  lay  up 
five,  sometimes  six  dollars  a  day. 

Once  I  met  Mr.  RatcHff  in  Carondelet  Street.  He  evidently 
recognized  me,  for  he  turned  on  me  a  glance  full  of  arrogance 
and  hate.  The  encounter  made  me  uneasy,  but,  thinking  the 
mention  of  it  might  produce  needless  anxiety,  I  said  nothing 
about  it  to  Estelle.  We  were  sitting  that  very  evening  in  our 
little  room.  Estelle,  always  childhke,  was  in  my  lap,  question- 
ing me  closely  about  all  the  incidents  of  the  day,  —  what  streets 
I  had  walked  through ;  what  persons  I  had  seen ;  if  I  had 
been  thinking  of  her,  &c.  I  answered  all  her  questions  but 
one,  and  she  seemed  content ;  and  then  whispered  in  my  ears 
the  intelligence  that  she  was  likely  to  be  the  mother  of  my 
child.  Delightful  announcement !  And  yet  with  the  thrill  of 
satisfaction  came  a  pang  of  solicitude. 


128  PECULIAR. 

"  Do  you  believe,"  prattled  Estelle,  "  there  ever  were  two 
people  so  happy  ?  I  can't  help  recalling  those  words  you  read 
me  the  other  night  from  your  dear  father's  last  part,  '  If  it 
were  now  to  die,  't  were  now  to  be  most  happy.'  It  seems  to 
me  as  if  the  felicity  of  a  long  life  had  been  concentrated  into 
these  few  weeks,  and  as  if  we  were  cheating  our  mortal  lot  in 
alloAving  ourselves  to  be  quite  so  happy." 

Was  this  the  sigh  of  her  presaging  heart  ? 

I  resolved  on  immediate  action.  The  next  day  (a  Wednes- 
day) I  passed  upon  the  Levee.  After  many  inquiries,  I  found 
a  ship  laden  vdih  cotton  that  would  sail  the  following  vSunday 
for  Boston.  The  captain  agreed  to  give  up  his  best  state-room 
for  a  hundred  dollai*s.  It  should  be  ready  for  our  occupancy  on 
Saturday.  I  closed  with  his  offer  at  once.  Estelle  rejoiced  at 
the  arrangement, 

"  What  has  happened  to-day  ?  "  I  asked  her. 

"  Nothing  of  moment,"  she  replied.  "  Two  men  called  to 
get  names  for  a  Directory." 

"What  did  you  tell  them?" 

"  That  if  they  wanted  my  husband's  name,  they  must  get  it 
from  him  personally." 

"You  did  well.     Were  they  polite?" 

"  Very,  and  seemed  to  seek  excuses  for  lingering ;  but,  get- 
ting no  encouragement,  they  left." 

Could  it  be  they  were  spies  ?  The  question  occurred  to  me, 
but  I  soon  dismissed  it  as  improbable. 

And  yet  they  were  creatures  employed  by  Carberry  Eatcliff 
to  find  out  what  they  could  about  the  man  who  had  offended 
him. 

Eatcliff  was  the  type  of  a  class  that  spring  from  slavery  as 
naturally  as  certain  weeds  spring  from  a  certain  quality  of 
manure.  He  was  such  a  man  as  only  slavery  could  engender. 
The  son  of  a  South  Carolina  planter,  he  was  bred  to  believe 
that  his  little  State  —  little  in  respect  to  its  white  population 
—  was  yet  the  master  State  of  the  Union,  and  that  his  family 
was  the  master  family  of  the  State.  The  conclusion  that  he 
was  the  master  man  of  his  family,  and  consequently  of  the 
Union,  was  not  distant  or  illogical.  As  soon  as  he  could  lift  a 
pistol  he  was  taught  to  fire  at  a  mai'k,  and  to  make  believe  it 


THE  STOKY   OF  ESTKLLE.  129 

was  an  Abolitionist.  Before  he  was  twelve  years  old  he  had 
fired  at  and  wounded  a  free  negro,  who  had  playfully  answered 
an  imperious  order  by  mimicking  the  boy's  strut.  Of  this 
achievement  the  father  was  rather  proud. 

Accustomed  to  regard  the  lives  and  persons  of  slaves  as 
subject  to  his  irresponsible  will,  or  to  the  caprices  of  his  un- 
trained and  impure  passions,  he  soon  transferred  to  the  laboring 
white  man  and  woman  the  contempt  he  felt  for  the  negro. 
We  cannot  have  the  moral  sense  impaired  in  one  direction  with- 
out having  it  warped  and  corrupted  throughout. 

Wrong  feeling  must,  by  an  inexorable  law,  breed  wrong 
thinking.  And  so  Ratcliff  looked  upon  all  persons,  whether 
white  or  black,  who  had  to  earn  tlieir  bread  by  manual  labor, 
as  (in  the  memorable  words  of  his  friend  Mr.  Hammond, 
United  States  Senator  from  South  Carolina)  "  Mudsills  and 
slaves."  For  the  thrifty  Yankee  his  contempt  was  supreme, 
bitter,  almost  frantic. 

By  mismanagement  and  extravagance  his  family  estate  was 
squandered,  and,  the  father  having  fallen  in  a  duel  with  a 
political  adversary,  Eatcliff  found  himself  at  twenty-one  with 
expensive  tastes  and  no  money.  He  borrowed  a  few  hundred 
dollars,  went  to  Louisiana,  and  there  married  a  woman  of  large 
property,  but  personally  unattractive.  Revengeful  and  unfor- 
getting  as  a  savage  where  his  pride  was  touched,  and  more 
cruel  than  a  wolf  in  his  instincts,  Ratcliff  had  always  meant 
to  requite  me  for  the  humiliation  I  had  made  him  experience. 
He  had  lost  trace  of  me  soon  after  the  incident  at  the  theatre. 
No  sooner  had  I  passed  him  in  Carondelet  Street  than  he  put 
detectives  on  my  track,  and  my  place  of  abode  was  discovered. 
He  received  such  a  report  of  my  wife's  beauty  as  roused  him 
to  the  hope  of  an  exquisite  revenge.  Doubtless  he  found  an 
opportunity  of  seeing  Estelle  without  being  seen ;  and  on  dis- 
covering in  her  his  slave,  his  surprise  and  fury  reached  an 
ungovernable  height. 

Let  me  not  dwell  on  the  horrors  of  the  next  few  days.  We 
had  made  all  our  arrangements  for  departure  that  Saturday 
morning. 

Estelle,  in  her  simple  habit,  never  looked  so  lovely.  A  Little 
cherry-colored  scarf  which  I  had  presented  her  was  about  her 

6*  1 


130  TKCLLIAK. 

neck,  and  contrasted  with  the  neutral  tint  of  her  robe.  The 
carriage  for  our  conveyance  to  the  ship  was  at  the  ddor.  Our 
light  amount  of  luggage  was  put  on  behind.  We  bade  our 
kind  hostess  good  by.  Estelle  stepped  in,  and  I  was  about  to 
follow,  when  two  policemen,  each  with  a  revolver  in  his  hand, 
approached  from  a  concealment  near  by,  shut  the  carriage 
door,  and,  laying  hands  upon  me,  drew  me  back.  At  the  same 
moment,  from  the  opposite  side  of  the  street,  RatchfF,  with  two 
men  wearing  official  badges,  came,  and,  opening  the  opposite  door 
of  the  coach,  entered  and  took  seats.  So  sudden  were  these 
movements,  that  they  were  over  before  either  Estelle  or  I 
could  offer  any  resistance. 

The  coachman  at  once  drove  off.  An  imploring  shriek  from 
Estelle  was  followed  by  a  frantic  effort  on  her  part  to  thrust 
open  the  door  of  the  coach.  I  saw  her  struggling  in  the  arms 
of  the  officers,  her  face  wild  with  terror,  indignation,  rage. 
Ratcliff,  who  had  taken  the  seat  opposite  to  her,  put  his  head 
out  of  the  coach,  and  bowed  to  me  mockingly. 

One  of  my  stalwart  captors  held  a  pistol  to  my  head,  and 
cautioned  me  to  be  "  asy."  For  half  a  minute  I  made  no  resist- 
ance. I  was  calculating  how  I  could  best  rescue  Estelle.  All 
the  while  I  kept  my  eyes  intently  on  the  depai-ting  carnage. 

My  captors  held  me  as  if  they  were  prepared  for  any  strug- 
gle. But  I  had  not  been  seven  years  on  the  stage  without 
learning  something  of  the  tricks  of  the  wrestler  and  the  gym- 
nast. Suddenly  both  policemen  found  their  legs  knocked  from 
under  them,  and  their  heads  in  contact  with  the  pavement.  A 
pistol  went  off  as  they  fell,  and  a  bullet  passed  through  the 
crown  of  my  hat ;  but  before  they  could  recover  their  footiug,  I 
had  put  an  eighth  of  a  mile  between  us. 

Where  was  the  carriage  ?  The  street  into  which  it  had 
tm-ned  was  mtersected  by  another  wliich  curved  oii  either  side 
like  the  horns  of  a  crescent.  To  my  dismay,  when  I  reached 
this  curve,  the  carriage  was  not  to  be  seen.  It  had  turned  into 
the  street  either  on  the  right  or  on  the  left,  and  the  curve  hid 
it  from  view.  Which  way  ?  I  could  judge  nothing  from  the 
sound,  for  other  vehicles  were  passing.  I  stopped  a  man,  and 
eagerly  questioned  him.  He  did  not  speak  English.  I  put 
my  question  in  French.     He  stopped  to  consider,  —  believed 


THE   STOKY   OF   ESTELLE.  131 

the  carriage  had  taken  the  left  turning,  but  was  not  quite 
certain.  I  ran  leftward  with  all  my  speed.  Carriages  were  to 
be  seen,  but  not  one  with  the  little  trunk  and  valise  strapped  on 
behind.  I  then  turned  and  ran  down  the  right  turning.  Baf- 
fled !  At  fault !  In  the  network  of  streets  it  was  all  conjecture. 
Still  on  I  ran  in  the  desperate  hope  of  seeing  the  carriage  at 
some  cross  street.     But  my  efforts  were  fruitless. 

Panting  and  exhausted,  I  sought  rest  in  a  "  magasin  "  for  the 
sale  of  cigars.  A  little  back  parlor  offered  itself  for  smokers. 
I  entered.  A  waiter  brought  in  three  cigars,  and  I  threw  a 
quarter  of  a  dollar  on  the  table.  But  I  was  no  lover  of  the 
weed.  The  tobacco  remained  untouched.  I  wanted  an  oppor- 
tunity for  summoning  my  best  thoughts. 

Even  if  I  had  caught  the  coach,  would  not  the  chances  have 
been  against  me  ?  Clearly,  yes.  Further  search  for  it,  then, 
could  be  of  no  avail.  Undoubtedly  Ratcliff  would  take  Estelle 
at  once  to  his  plantation,  for  there  he  could  have  her  most 
completely  in  his  power.  Let  that  calculation  be  my  starting- 
point. 

How  stood  it  in  regard  to  myself?  Did  not  my  seizure  by 
the  poHcemen  show  that  legal  authority  for  my  arrest  had  been 
procured  ?  Probably.  If  imprisoned,  should  I  not  be  wholly 
powerless  to  help  Estelle  ?  Obviously.  Perhaps  the  morning 
newspapers  would  have  something  to  say  of  the  affair  ?  Noth- 
ing more  likely.  Was  it  not,  then,  my  safest  course  to  keep  still 
and  concealed  for  the  present  ?  Alas,  yes  !  Could  I  not  trust 
Estelle  to  protect  her  own  honor  ?  Ay,  she  would  protect  it 
with  her  life ;  but  the  pang  was  in  the  thought  that  her  life 
might  be  sacrificed  in  the  work  of  protection. 

The  "  magasin  "  was  kept  by  Gustave  Leroux,  an  old  French- 
man, who  had  been  a  captain  under  Napoleon,  and  was  in  the 
grand  army  in  its  retreat  from  Moscow.  A  bullet  had  gone 
through  his  cheeks,  and  another  had  taken  off  part  of  his 
nose. 

I  must  have  sat  with  the  untouched  cigars  before  me  nearly 
three  hours.  At  last,  supposing  I  was  alone,  I  bowed  my  fore- 
head on  my  hand,  and  wept.  Suddenly  I  looked  up.  The  old 
Frenchman,  with  his  nose  and  cheek  covered  with  large  black 
patches,  was  standing  with  both  hands  on  the  table,  gazing 
wistfidly  and  tenderly  upon  me. 


132  PECULIAR. 

"  What  is  it,  my  brave  ?  "  he  asked  in  French,  while  tears 
began  to  fill  his  own  eyes.  I  looked  up.  There  was  no  resist- 
ing the  benignity  of  that  old  battered  face.  I  took  the  two 
hands  which  he  held  out  to  me  in  my  own.  He  sat  down  by 
my  side,  and  I  told  him  my  story. 

After  I  had  finished,  he  sat  stroking  liis  gi-ay  moustache  with 
forefinger  and  thumb,  and  for  ten  minutes  did  not  speak. 
Then  he  said :  "  I  have  seen  this  Mr.  Ratcliff.  A  bad  physi- 
ognomy !  And  yet  what  Mademoiselle  Millefleurs  would  call 
a  pretty  fellow !  Let  us  see.  He  will  carry  the  girl  to  Lo- 
rain, and  have  her  well  guarded  in  his  own  house.  As  he  has 
no  faith  in  women,  his  policy  will  be  to  win  her  by  fine  pres- 
ents, jewels,  dresses,  and  sumptuous  living.  He  will  try  that 
game  for  a  full  month  at  least.  I  think,  if  the  girl  is  what  you 
tell  me  she  is,  we  may  feel  quite  secure  for  a  month.  That 
will  give  us  time  to  plan  a  campaign.  Meanwhile  you  shall 
occupy  a  little  room  in  my  house,  and  keep  as  calm  as  you  can. 
My  dinner  will  be  ready  in  ten  minutes.  You  must  try  to 
coax  an  appetite,  for  you  will  want  all  your  health  and  strength. 
Courage,  7non  brave  !  " 

This  old  soldier,  in  his  seventieth  year,  had  done  the  most 
courageous  act  of  his  life.  Out  of  pure  charity  he  had  married 
Madame  Ponsard,  five  years  his  elder,  an  anti-Bonapartist, 
and  who  had  been  left  a  widow,  destitute,  and  with  six  young 
parentless  grandcliildren.  Fifty  years  back  he  had  danced  with 
her  when  she  was  a  belle  in  Paris,  and  that  fact  was  an  ofiset 
for  all  her  senile  vanity  and  querulousuess.  It  reconciled  him, 
not  only  to  receiving  the  lady  herself,  large,  obese,  and  rubi- 
cund, and,  worst  of  all,  anti-Bonapartist,  but  to  take  her  encum- 
brances, four  girls  and  two  boys,  all  with  fearful  appetites  and 
sound  lungs.  But  the  old  Captain  was  a  sentimentalist ;  and 
the  young  life  about  him  had  rejuvenated  his  own.  After  all, 
there  was  a  selfish  calculation  in  his  lovely  charities ;  for  he 
knew  that  to  give  was  to  receive  in  larger  measure. 

I  accepted  his  offer  of  a  shelter.  The  next  morning  he 
brought  me  a  copy  of  the  Delta.     It  contained  this  paragraph : 

"We  regret  to  learn  that  Mr.  Julian  Talbot,  foraierly  an 
actor,  and  well  known  in  theatrical  circles,  was  yesterday 
arrested  in  the  atrocious  act  of  abductiug  a  female  slave  of 


THE  STORY  OF  ESTELLE.  133 

great  personal  beauty,  belonging  to  the  Hon.  Carberry  Ratcliff. 
The  slave  was  recovered,  but  Talbot  managed  to  escape.  The 
officers  are  on  his  track.  It  is  time  an  example  was  made  of 
these  sneaking  Abolitionists/* 


"  O  insupportable,  O  heavy  houi' ! "  I  tried  to  reconcile  my- 
self to  delay.  I  stayed  a  whole  fortnight  with  Leroux.  At 
last  I  procured  the  dress  of  a  laboring  Celt,  and  tied  up  in  a 
bundle  a  cheap  dress  that  would  serve  for  a  boy.  I  then  stuck 
a  pipe  through  my  hat-band,  and  put  a  sliillelah  under  my  arm. 
A  mop-like  red  wig  concealed  a  portion  of  my  face.  Lamp- 
bhu-k  and  ochre  did  the  rest.  Leroux  told  me  I  was  prema- 
ture in  my  movements,  but,  without  heeding  his  expostulations, 
I  took  an  affectionate  leave  of  him  and  of  Madame,  whose  heart 
I  had  won  by  talking  French  with  her,  and  listening  to  her  long 
stories  of  the  ancient  regime. 

I  went  on  board  a  Red  River  boat.  One  of  the  policemen 
who  ai'rested  me  was  present  on  the  watch ;  but  I  stared  him 
stupidly  in  the  face,  and  passed  on  unsuspected. 

Ratcliff  was  having  a  canal  dug  at  Lorain  for  increasing  the 
facilities  of  transporting  cotton ;  and  as  the  work  was  unhealthy, 
he  engaged  Irishmen  for  it  The  killing  an  Irishman  was  no 
loss,  but  the  death  of  a  slave  would  be  a  thousand  dollars  out 
of  the  master's  pocket.  I  easily  got  a  situation  among  the 
diggers.  How  my  heart  bounded  when  I  first  saw  Ratcliff! 
He  came  in  company  with  his  superintendent.  Van  Buskirk, 
and  stood  near  me  some  minutes  while  I  handled  the  spade. 

For  hours,  every  night  during  the  week,  I  watched  the  house 
to  discover  the  room  occupied  by  Estelle.  On  Sunday  I  went 
in  the  daytime.  From  the  window  of  a  room  in  the  upper- 
most story  a  little  cherry-colored  scarf  was  flaunting  in  the 
breeze.  I  at  once  recognized  its  meaning.  Some  negroes 
were  near  by  under  a  tree.  I  approached,  and  asked  an  an- 
cient black  fellow,  who  was  playing  on  an  old  cracked  banjo, 
what  he  would  take  for  the  instrument. 

"  Look  yere,  Paddy,"  said  he,  "  if  yer  tink  to  fool  dis  chile, 
yer  '11  fine  it  air  n't  to  be  did.  So  wood  up,  and  put  off  ter 
wunst,  or  yer  '11  kotch  it,  shoo-ah." 


134  PECULIAR. 

"  But,  Daddy,  I  'm  in  right  earnest,"  replied  I.  "  If  you  '11 
sell  that  banjo  at  any  price  within  reason,  I  '11  buy  it." 

"  It  '11  take  a  heap  more  'n  you  kn  raise  ter  buy  dis  yere 
banjo ;  so,  Paddy,  make  tracks,  and  jes'  you  mine?  how  yer 
guv  dis  yere  ole  nigger  any  more  ob  yer  sarss." 

"  I  'U  pay  you  two  dollars  for  that  banjo,  Daddy,  \yill  you 
take  it  ?  "  said  I,  holding  out  the  silver. 

The  old  fellow  looked  at  me  incredulously ;  then  seized  the 
silver  and  thrust  the  banjo  into  my  hand,  uttering  at  the  same 
time  such  an  expressive  "  Wheugh ! "  as  only  a  negro  can. 
Then,  unable  to  restrain  himself,  he  broke  forth :  ''  Yah,  yah, 
yah !  Paddy 's  got  a  bargain  dis  time,  shoo-ah.  Yah,  yah,  yah ! 
Look  yere,  Paddy.  Dat  am  de  most  sooperfinest  banjo  in  dese 
parts ;  can't  fine  de  match  ob  it  in  all  Noo  Orleenz.  Jes'  you 
hole  on  ter  dem  air  strings,  so  dey  won't  break  in  two  places  ter 
wonst,  and  den  fire  away,  and  yer  '11  'stonish  de  natives,  shoo-ah. 
Yah,  yah,  yah!  Takes  dis  ole  nigg  to  sell  a  banjo.  Yah! 
yah!" 

Every  man  who  acliieves  success  finds  his  penalty  in  a 
train  of  parasites  ;  and  Daddy's  case  was  not  exceptional.  As 
he  started  in  a  bee  line  for  his  cabin,  to  boast  of  his  acuteness 
in  trade  to  an  admiring  circle,  he  w^as  followed  by  his  whole 
gang  of  witnesses. 

All  this  time  I  could  see  Ratcliff  with  a  party  of  gentlemen 
on  his  piazza.  They  were  smoking  cigars  ;  and,  judging  from 
the  noise  they  made,  had  been  dining  and  drinking.  I  slipped 
away  with  the  banjo  under  my  arm. 

That  night  I  returned  and  played  the  air  of  "  Pestal "  as 
near  to  the  house  as  I  deemed  it  prudent  to  ventm-e.  I  woidd 
play  a  minute,  and  then  pause.  I  had  not  done  this  three  times, 
when  I  heard  Estelle's  voice  from  her  chamber,  humming  these 
words  in  low  but  audible  tones: 

"  Hark !  methinks  I  hear  celestial  voices  sing, 
Soon  thou  Shalt  be  free,  child  of  misery,  — 
Eest  and  perfect  joy  in  heaven  are  waiting  thee  ; 
Spirit,  plume  thy  wings  and  flee  !  " 

I  struck  a  few  notes,  by  way  of  acknowledgment,  and  left. 

The  next  night  I  merely  whistled  the  remembered  air  in 
token  of  my  presence.     A  light  appeared  for  a  moment  at  the 


THE   STOKY   OF   ESTELLE.  135 

"window,  and  then  was  removed.  I  crept  up  close  to  the  house. 
On  that  side  of  it  where  Estelle  w^as  confined  there  were 
no  piazzas.  I  had  not  waited  two  minutes  when  something 
touched  my  head  and  bobbed  before  my  eyes.  It  was  a  little 
roll  of  paper.  I  detached  it  from  the  string  to  which  it  was 
tied ;  and  then,  taking  from  my  pocket  an  old  envelope,  I  wrote 
on  it  in  the  dark  these  words  :  "  To-morrow  night  at  ten  o'clock 
down  the  string.  If  prevented,  then  any  night  after  at  the 
same  hour.     Love  shall  find  a  way.     Forever." 

The  letter  which  I  found  folded  in  the  paper  lies  yet  in 
my  pocket-book,  but  I  need  not  look  at  it  in  order  to  repeat  it 
entire.     It  is  in  these  words  :  — 

"  What  shall  I  call  thee  ?  Dearest  ?  But  that  word  implies 
a  comparative ;  and  whom  shall  I  compare  with  thee  ?  Most 
precious  and  most  beloved  ?  O,  that  is  not  a  tithe  of  it !  Idol  ? 
Darling  ?  Sweet  ?  Pretty  words,  but  insufficient.  Ah !  life 
of  my  life,  there  are  no  superlatives  in  language  that  can  in- 
terpret to  thee  the  unspeakable  affection  which  swells  in  my 
heart  and  moistens  my  eyes  as  I  commence  this  letter !  Can 
we  by  words  give  an  idea  of  a  melody  ?  No  more  can  I  put  on 
paper  what  my  heart  would  be  whispering  to  thine.  Forgive 
the  effort  and  the  failure. 

"  I  have  the  freedom  of  the  upper  story  of  the  house,  and  my 
room  is  where  you  saw  the  scai'f.  Two  strong  negro  women, 
with  sinister  faces,  and  employed  as  seamstresses,  watch  me 
every  time  I  cross  the  threshold.  At  night  I  am  locked  in. 
The  windows,  as  you  may  see,  are  always  secured  by  iron  bars. 

"  Ratcliff  hopes  to  subdue  me  by  slow  approaches.  O,  the 
unutterable  loathing  which  he  inspires !  He  has  placed  im- 
pure books  in  my  way.  He  sends  me  the  daintiest  food  and 
wines.  I  confine  myself  to  bread,  vegetables,  and  cream.  He 
cannot  drug  me  without  my  knowledge.  Twice  and  sometimes 
three  times  a  day  he  visits  me,  and,  finding  me  firm  in  my 
resolve,  retires  with  a  self-satisfied  air  which  maddens  me.  He 
evidently  believes  in  my  final  submission.  No  !  Sooner,  death ! 
on  my  knees  I  swear  it. 

"  Yesterday  he  sent  splendid  dresses,  laces,  jewels,  diamonds. 
He  offers  me  a  carriage,  an  establishment,  and  to  settle  on  me 
enough  to  make  me  secure  for  the  future.  How  he  magnifies 
my  hate  by  all  these  despicable  baits  ! 

"  Sweet,  be  very  prudent.  While  steadily  maintaining  to- 
wards this  wretch,  whom  the  law  calls  my  master,  the  demeanor 


136  PECULIAR. 

that  may  best  assure  him  of  my  steadfast  resolve,  I  take  care 
not  to  arouse  his  anger ;  for  I  know  wliat  you  want  is  oppor- 
tunity. He  may  any  time  be  called  off  suddenly  to  New 
Orleans.  Be  wary.  Tell  me  what  you  propose.  A  string  shall 
b0>let  do^vn  from  my  window  to-morrow  night  at  ten  by  stealth, 
for  I  am  w^atched.  God  keep  thee,  my  husband,  my  beloved  ! 
How  I  shudder  at  thought  of  all  thy  dangers !  Be  sure,  O 
William,  tender  and  true,  my  heai't  will  hold  eternally  one  only 
image.     Adieu !  Estelle." 

The  next  night  I  put  her  in  possession  of  a  rope  and  a  boy's 
dress,  also  of  two  files,  with  directions  for  filing  apart  the  iron 
bars.  I  saw  it  would  not  be  difficult  to  enable  her  to  get  out  of 
the  house.  The  dreadful  question  was,  How  shall  w^e  escape 
the  search  which  will  at  once  be  made  ?  For  a  week  we  ex- 
changed letters.  At  last  she  ^vrote  me  that  Ratcliff  would  the 
next  day  leave  for  New  Orleans  for  his  wife.  I  wrote  to 
Estelle  to  be  ready  the  ensuing  night,  and  on  a  signal  from  me 
to  let  herself  down  by  the  rope. 

These  plans  were  successfully  cai'ried  out.  Disguised  as  a 
laboring  boy,  Estelle  let  herself  down  to  the  ground.  Once 
more  we  clasped  each  other  heart  to  heart.  I  had  selected  a 
moonless  night  for  the  escape.  In  order  to  baffle  the  scent  of 
the  bloodhounds  that  would  be  put  on  our  track,  I  took  to  the 
river.  Li  a  canoe  I  paddled  down  stream  some  fifteen  miles 
till  daylight.  There,  at  a  little  bend  called  La  Coude,  we 
stopped.  It  now  occurred  to  me  that  our  safest  plan  w^ould  be 
to  take  the  next  boat  up  the  river,  and  return  on  our  course 
instead  of  keeping  on  to  the  IVIississippi.  Our  pursuers  would 
probably  look  for  us  in  any  direction  but  that. 

The  Rigolette  was  the  first  boat  that  stopped.  We  went  on 
board,  and  the  fii-st  person  we  encountered  was  Ratcliff !  He 
was  returning,  having  learnt  at  the  outset  of  his  journey  that 
his  wife  had  left  New  Orleans  the  day  before.  Estelle  was 
thrown  ofi"  her  guard  by  the  suddenness  of  the  meeting,  and 
uttered  a  short,  sharp  cry  of  dismay  which  betrayed  her. 
Poor  child!  She  was  little  skilled  in  feigning.  Ratcliff 
walked  up  to  her  and  removed  her  hat. 

I  had  seen  men  in  a  rage,  but  never  had  I  witnessed  such  an 
infui'iated  expression  as  that  which  Ratcliff 's  features  now  ex- 


THE  STORY  OF  ESTELLE.  137 

hibited.  It  was  wolfish,  beastly,  in  its  ferocity.  His  smooth 
pink  face  grew  livid.  Seizing  Estelle  roughly  by  the  arm,  he  — 
whatever  he  was  about  to  do,  the  operation  was  cut  short  by  a 
blow  from  my  fist  between  his  eyes  wliich  felled  liim  sense- 
less on  the  deck. 

The  spectacle  of  a  rich  planter  knocked  down  by  an  Irish- 
man was  not  a  common  one  on  boai'd  the  Rigolette.  We  were 
taken  in  custody,  Estelle  and  I,  and  confined  together  in  a 
state-room. 

RatclifF  was  badly  stunned,  but  cold  water  and  brandy  at 
length  restored  him.  At  Lorain  the  boat  stopped  till  Van 
Buskirk  and  half  a  dozen  low  whites,  his  creatures  and  hang- 
ers-on, could  be  summoned  to  take  me  in  charge.  Ratcliff  noAV 
recognized  me  as  his  acquaintance  of  the  theatre,  and  a  new 
paroxysm  of  fury  convulsed  his  features.  I  was  searched,  de- 
prived of  my  money,  then  handcuffed ;  then  shackled  by  the 
legs,  so  that  I  could  only  move  by  taking  short  steps.  Estelle's 
arms  were  pinioned  behind  her,  and  in  that  state  she  was  forced 
into  an  open  vehicle  and  conveyed  to  the  house. 

I  was  placed  in  an  outbuilding  near  the  stable,  a  sort  of 
dungeon  for  refractory  slaves.  It  was  lighted  from  the  roof, 
was  unfloored,  and  contained  neither  chair  nor  log  on  which 
to  sit.  For  two  days  and  nights  neither  food  nor  drink  was 
brought  to  me.  With  great  difficulty,  on  account  of  my  chain, 
I  managed  to  get  at  a  small  piece  of  biscuit  in  my  coat-pocket. 
This  I  ate,  and,  as  the  rain  di-ipped  through  the  roof,  I  was 
enabled  to  quench  my  thirst. 

On  the  third  day  two  men  led  me  out  to  an  adjoining  build- 
ing, and  down-stairs  into  a  cellar.  As  we  entered,  the  first 
object  I  beheld  sent  such  a  shock  of  horror  to  my  heart  that  I 
wonder  how  I  survived  it.  Tied  to  a  post,  and  stripped  naked 
to  her  hips,  her  head  drooping,  her  breast  heaving,  her  back 
scored  by  the  lash  and  bleeding,  stood  Estelle.  Near  by,  lean- 
ing on  a  cotton-bale,  was  Ratcliff  smoking  a  cigar.  Seated  on 
a  block,  his  back  resting  against  the  wall,  with  one  leg  o%'er  the 
other,  was  a  white  man,  holding  a  cowskin,  and  apparently 
resting  from  his  arduous  labors  as  woman-whipper.  Eorgettijig 
my  shackles,  and  uttering  some  inai-ticulate  cry  of  anguish,  I 
strove  to  rush  upon  Ratcliff,  but  fell  to  the  ground,  exciting 


138  PECULIAR. 

his  derision  and  that  of  his  creatures,  the  miserable  "  mean  " 
whites,  the  essence  of  whose  manhood  faraiharity  with  slavery 
had  unmoulded  till  they  had  become  bestial  in  theii-  feelings. 

Estelle,  roused  by  my  voice,  turned  on  me  eyes  lighted  up 
by  an  affection  wliich  no  bodily  agony  could  for  one  moment 
enfeeble,  and  said,  gaspingly :  "  My  own  husband  !  You  see  I 
keep  my  oath  I  " 

'-  Husband  indeed  !  We  '11  see  about  that,"  sneered  Ratcliff. 
"  Fool !  do  you  imagine  that  a  marriage  contracted  by  a  slave 
without  the  consent  of  the  master  has  any  validity,  moral  or 
legal?" 

I  turned  to  him,  and  uttered  —  I  know  not  what.  The 
frenzy  which  seized  me  lifted  me  out  of  my  normal  state  of 
thought,  and  by  no  effort  of  reminiscence  have  I  ever  since 
been  able  to  recall  what  I  said. 

I  only  remember  that  Ratcliff,  with  mock  applause,  clapped 
his  hands  and  cried,  "  Capital !  "  Then,  lighting  a  fresh  cigar, 
he  remarked  :  "  There  is  yet  one  little  ceremony  more  to  be 
gone  tkrough  with.     Bring  in  the  bridegroom." 

"What  new  atrocity  was  this  ? 

A  moment  afterwards  a  young,  lusty,  stout,  and  not  ill-look- 
ing negro,  fantastically  dressed,  was  led  in  with  mock  ceremony, 
by  one  of  the  mean  whites,  a  wliiskey-wasted  creature  named 
Lovell.  I  looked  eagerly  in  the  face  of  the  negro,  who  bowed 
and  smirked  in  a  manner  to  excite  roars  of  laughter  on  the  part 
of  Ratcliff  and  his  minions. 

"  Well,  boy,  are  you  ready  to  take  her  for  better  or  for 
worse  ? "  asked  the  haughty  planter. 

The  negro  bowed  obsequiously,  and,  jerking  off  his  hat, 
scratched  his  wool,  and,  with  a  laugh,  rephed :  "  'Scuze  me, 
massa,  but  dis  nigger  can't  see  his  wife  dat  is  to  be  'xposed  in 
dis  onhan'some  mahnner  to  de  ej^s  of  de  profane.  If  Massa 
Ratcliff  hab  no  'jection,  I  '11  jes'  put  de  shawl  on  de  bride's  baek. 
Yah,  yah,  yah  !  " 

'•  O,  make  yourself  as  gallant  as  you  please  now,"  said  the 
planter,  laughing.  '•  Let 's  see  you  begin  to  play  the  bride- 
groom." 

Gracious  heavens  !  Was  I  right  in  my  surmises  ?  Under 
all  his  haiiequin  grimaces  and  foolery,  this  negro,  to  my  quick- 


THE   STORY   OF  ESTELLE.  139 

encd  penetration,  seemed  to  be  crowding  back,  smothering,  dis- 
guising, some  intense  emotion.  His  laugh  was  so  extravagantly 
African,  that  it  struck  me  as  imitative  in  its  exaggeration.  I 
had  heard  a  laugh  much  like  it  from  the  late  Jim  Crow  Rice  on 
the  stage.     Was  the  negro  playing  a  part  ? 

He  approached  Estelle,  cut  the  thongs  that  bound  her  to  the 
post,  threw  her  shawl  over  her  shoulders,  and  then,  falling  on 
one  knee,  put  both  hands  on  his  heart,  and  rolled  up  his  eyes 
much  after  the  manner  of  Bombastes  Furioso  making  love  to 
Distaffina.  The  Ratcliffites  were  in  ecstasies  at  the  burlesque. 
Then,  rising  to  his  feet,  the  negro  affectedly  drew  nearer  to 
Estelle,  and,  putting  up  his  hand,  whispered,  first  in  one  of  her 
ears,  then  in  the  other.  I  could  see  a  change,  sudden,  but 
instantly  checked,  in  her  whole  manner.  Her  lips  moved. 
She  must  have  murmured  something  in  reply. 

"  Look  here,  Peek,  you  rascal,"  cried  RatclifF,  "  we  must 
have  the  benefit  of  your  soft  words.  What  have  you  been 
saying  to  her?" 

"  I  'ze  been  tellin'  her,"  said  the  negro,  with  tragic  gesticula- 
tion, pointing  to  himself  and  then  at  me,  "  to  look  fust  on  dis 
yere  pikter,  den  on  dat.     Wheugh  !  " 

Still  affecting  the  buffoon,  he  came  up  to  me,  presenting  his 
person  so  that  his  face  was  visible  only  to  myself.  There  was 
a  divine  pity  in  his  eyes,  and  in  the  whole  expression  of  his 
face  the  guaranty  of  a  high  and  holy  resolve.  "  She  -will  trust 
me,"  he  whispered.     "  Do  you  the  same." 

To  the  spectators  he  appeared  to  be  mocking  me  with  grim- 
ace.    To  me  he  seemed  an  angel  of  deliverance. 

«  Now,  Peek,  to  business  ! "  said  Ratcliff.  "  You  swear,  do 
you,  to  make  this  woman  your  wife  in  fact  as  well  as  in  name  ; 
do  you  understand  me,  Peek  ?  " 

"  Yes,  massa,  I  understan'." 

"  You  swear  to  guard  her  well,  and  never  to  let  that  white 
scoundrel  yonder  come  near  or  touch  her  ?  " 

"  Yes,  massa,  I  swar  ter  all  dat,  an'  ebber  so  much  more. 
He  '11  kotch  what  he  can't  carry  if  he  goes  fur  to  come  nare 
my  wife." 

"  Kiss  the  book  on  it,"  said  Ratcliff,  handing  him  a  Bible. 

"  Yes,  massa,  as  many  books  as  you  please,"  replied  Peek, 
doing  as  he  was  bidden. 


140  PECULIAR. 

"  Then,  by  my  authority  as  owner  of  you  two  slaves,  and  aa 
justice  of  the  peace,  I  pronounce  you,  in  presence  of  these  wit- 
nesses, man  and  wife,"  said  Ratclifi'.  "  Why  the  hell.  Peek, 
don't  you  kiss  the  bride  ?  " 

"  O.  you  jes'  leeb  dis  chile  alone  for  dat  air,  Massa  Ratcliff," 
replied  the  negro ;  and,  concealing  his  mouth  by  both  hands,  he 
simulated  a  kiss. 

"  iS^ow  attend  to  Mrs.  Peek  while  another  little  ceremony 
takes  place,"  said  Ratcliflf. 

At  a  given  signal  I  was  stripped  of  my  coat,  waistcoat,  and 
shirt,  then  dragged  to  the  whipping-post,  and  bound  to  it.  I 
could  see  EsteUe.  her  face  of  a  mortal  paleness,  her  body  writh- 
ing as  if  in  an  agony.  The  first  lash  that  descended  on  my 
bare  flesh  seemed  to  rive  her  very  heart-strings,  for  she  uttered 
a  loud  shriek,  and  was  borne  out  senseless  in  the  negro's  arms. 

"  All  right !  "  said  Ratcliff.  ''  We  shall  soon  have  half  a 
dozen  little  Peeks  toddling  about.     Proceed,  Vickery." 

A  hundi-ed  lashes,  each  teai'ing  or  laying  bare  the  flesh,  were 
inflicted ;  but  after  the  first,  all  sensibility  to  pain  was  lost 
in  the  intensity  of  my  emotions.  Had  1  been  changed  into  a 
statue  of  bronze  I  could  not  have  been  more  impenetrable  t(j 
pain. 

"  Now,  sir,"  said  the  slave  lord,  coming  up  to  me,  "  you  see 
what  it  is  to  cross  the  path  of  Carberry  Ratcliff.  The  next 
time  you  venture  on  it,  you  won't  get  off  so  easy." 

Then,  turning  to  Vickery,  he  said :  "  I  promised  the  boys 
they  should  have  a  frolic  with  him,  and  see  him  safely  launched. 
They  have  been  longing  for  a  shy  at  an  Abolitionist.  So  un- 
shackle him,  and  let  him  slide." 

My  handcuffs  and  shackles  were  taken  off.  My  first  impulse 
on  being  freed,  was  to  spring  upon  Ratcliff  and  strangle  him. 
I  could  have  done  it.  Though  I  stood  in  a  pool  of  my  own 
blood,  a  preternatural  energy  filled  my  veins,  and  I  stei)ped 
forth  as  if  just  refreshed  by  sleep.  But  the  thought  of  Estelle 
checked  the  vindictive  impulse.  A  rope  was  now  put  about 
my  neck,  so  that  the  two  ends  could  be  held  by  my  conductors. 
In  this  state  I  was  led  up-stairs  out  of  the  building,  and  beyond 
the  immediate  enclosui-e  of  the  grounds  about  the  house  to  a 
sort  of  triviiun,  where  some  fifty  or  sixty  "  mean  whites  "  and 


THE   STORY   OF  ESTELLE.  141 

a  troop  of  boys  of  all  colors  were  assembled  round  a  tent  in 
which  a  negro  was  dealing  out  whiskey  gratis  to  the  company. 
Near  by  stood  a  kettle  sending  forth  a  strong  odor  of  boiUng 
tar.  A  large  sack,  the  gaping  mouth  of  which  showed  it  was 
filled  with  feathers,  lay  on  the  ground. 

There  was  a  yell  of  delight  from  the  assembly  as  soon  as  I 
appeared.  Half  naked  as  I  was,  I  was  dragged  forward  into 
theu'  midst,  and  tied  to  a  tree  near  the  kettle.  I  could  see,  at 
a  distance  of  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  Ratcliff  promenading 
his  piazza. 

There  was  a  dispute  among  the  "  chivalry"  whether  I  should 
be  stripped  of  the  only  remaining  article  of  dress,  my  panta- 
loons, before  being  "  fitted  to  a  new  suit."  The  consideration 
that  there  might  be  ladies  among  the  distant  spectators  finally 
operated  in  my  favor.  A  brush,  similar  to  that  used  in  white- 
washing, was  now  thrust  into  the  bituminous  Hquid ;  and  an 
illustration  of  one  of  "  our  institutions,  sir,"  was  entered  upon 
with  enthusiasm.  Lovell  was  the  chief  operator.  The  brush 
was  first  thrust  into  my  face  till  eyelids,  eyebrows,  and  hair 
were  glued  by  the  nauseous  adhesion.  Then  it  was  vigorously 
applied  to  the  bleeding  seams  on  my  back,  and  the  intolerable 
anguish  almost  made  me  faint.  My  entire  person  at  length 
being  thickly  smeared,  the  bag  of  feathers  was  lifted  over  me 
by  two  men  and  its  contents  poured  out  over  the  tarred  surface. 

I  will  not  pain  you,  my  friends,  by  suggesting  to  your  imagi- 
nation all  that  there  is  of  horrible,  agonizing,  and  disgusting  in 
this  operation,  which  men,  converted  into  fiends  by  the  hard- 
ening influences  of  slavery,  have  inflicted  on  so  many  hundreds 
of  imprudent  or  suspected  persons  from  the  Northern  States. 
I  see  in  it  all  now,  so  far  as  I  was  concerned,  a  Providential 
martyrdom  to  awake  me  to  a  sense  of  what  slavery  does  for 
the  education  of  white  men. 

0,  ye  palliators  of  the  "  institution  " !  —  Northern  men  with 
Southern  principles,  —  ministers  of  religion  who  search  the 
Scriptures  to  find  excuses  for  the  Devil's  own  work,  —  and  ye 
who  think  that  any  system  under  which  money  is  made  must 
be  right,  and  of  God's  appointment,  —  who  hate  any  agitation 
which  is  likely  to  diminish  the  dividends  from  your  cotton-mills 
or  the  snug  profits  from  your  Southern  trade,  —  come  and  learn 


142  PECULIAR. 

what  it  is  to  be  tarred  and  feathered  for  profaning,  l3y  thought 
or  act,  or  by  suspected  thought  or  act,  that  holy  of  holies  called 
slavery ! 

After  the  feathers  had  been  applied,  a  wag  among  my  tor- 
mentors fixed  to  my  neck  and  arms  pieces  of  an  old  sheet 
stretched  on  whalebone  to  imitate  a  pair  of  wings.  This  spec- 
taxile  afforded  to  the  spectators  the  climax  of  their  exhilaration 
and  delight.  I  was  then  led  by  a  rope  to  the  river's  side  and 
put  on  an  old  rickety  raft  where  I  had  to  use  constant  vigi- 
lance to  keep  the  loose  planks  from  disparting.  Two  men  in  a 
boat  towed  me  out  into  the  middle  of  the  stream,  and  then, 
amid  mock  cheers,  I  was  left  to  drift  down  with  the  cun'ent  or 
di-own,  just  as  the  chances  might  hold  in  regard  to  my  strength. 

Two  thoughts  sustained  me  ;  one  Estelle,  the  other  Ratcliffl 
But  for  these,  with  all  my  youth  and  power  of  endurance,  I 
should  have  sunk  and  died  mider  my  sufferings.  For  nearly 
an  hour  I  remained  within  sight  of  the  mocking,  hooting  crowd, 
who  were  especially  amused  at  my  efforts  to  save  myself  from 
immersion  by  keeping  the  pieces  of  my  raft  together.  At 
length  it  was  floated  against  a  shallow  where  some  brushwood 
and  loose  sticks  had  formed  a  sort  of  dam.  The  sun  was  sink- 
ing through  ^vild,  ragged  clouds  in  the  west.  My  tormentor 
had  all  gradually  disappeared.  For  the  last  thiity-six  hours  I 
had  eaten  nothing  but  a  cracker.  My  eyes  were  clogged  with 
tar.  My  efforts  in  keeping  the  raft  together  had  been  exhaust- 
ive. Xo  sooner  was  I  in  a  place  of  seeming  safety  than  my 
strength  failed  me  all  at  once.  I  could  no  longer  sit  upright 
The  wind  fi'eshened  and  the  waves  poured  over  me,  almost 
drowning  me  at  times.  Thicker  vapors  began  to  darken  the 
sky.  A  storm  was  rising.  Kight  came  down  frowningly.  The 
planks  slipped  from  under  me.  I  could  not  lift  an  arm  to  stop 
them.  I  tried  to  seize  the  brushwood  heaped  on  the  sand-bar, 
but  it  was  easily  detached,  and  offered  me  no  security.  I 
seemed  to  be  sinking  in  the  ooze  of  the  river's  bottom.  The 
spray  swept  over  me  in  ever-increasing  volume.  I  was  on  the 
verge  of  unconsciousness. 

Suddenly  I  roused  myself,  and  gi*asped  the  last  plank  of  my 
raft.  '  I  had  heard  a  cry.  I  listened.  The  cry  was  repeated, 
—  a  loud  halloo,  as  if  from  some  one  afloat  in  an  approaching 


THE   STORY   OF   ESTELLE.  143 

skifF.  I  could  see  nothing,  but  I  lifted  my  head  as  well  as  I 
could,  and  cried  out,  "  Here  !  "  Again  the  halloo,  and  this  time 
it  sounded  nearer.  I  threw  my  whole  strength  into  one  loud 
shriek  of  "  Here ! "  and  then  sank  exhausted.  A  rush  of  waves 
swept  over  me,  and  my  consciousness  was  suspended. 


When  I  came  to  my  senses,  I  lay  on  a  small  cot-bedstead  in 
a  hut.  A  negro,  whom  I  at  once  recognized  as  the  man  called 
Peek,  was  rubbing  my  face  and  limbs  with  oil  and  soap.  A 
smell  of  alcohol  and  other  volatile  liquids  pervaded  the  apart- 
ment. Much  of  my  hair  had  been  cut  off  in  the  effort  to  rid 
it  of  the  tar. 

"  Estelle,  —  where  is  she  ?  "  were  my  first  words. 

"  You  shall  see  her  soon,"  replied  the  negro.  "  But  you 
must  get  a  little  strength  first." 

He  spoke  in  the  tones,  and  used  the  language,  of  an  educated 
person.  He  brought  me  a  little  broth  and  rice,  which  I  swal- 
lowed eagerly.  I  tried  to  rise,  but  the  pain  from  the  gashes 
left  by  the  scourge  on  my  back  was  excniciating. 

"  Take  me  to  my  wife,"  I  murmured. 

He  lifted  me  in  his  arms  and  carried  me  to  the  open  door  of 
an  adjoining  cabin.  Here  on  a  mattress  lay  Estelle.  A  colored 
woman  of  remarkable  aspect,  and  with  straight  black  hair,  was 
kneeling  by  her  side.  This  woman  Peek  addressed  as  Esha. 
The  little  plain  gold  cross  which  Estelle  used  to  wear  on  the 
ribbon  round  her  neck  was  now  made  to  serve  as  the  emblem 
of  one  of  the  last  sacraments  of  her  religion.  At  her  request, 
Esha  held  it,  pinned  to  the  ribbon,  before  her  eyes.  On  a  rude 
table  near  by,  two  candles  were  burning.  Estelle's  hands  were 
clasped  upon  her  bosom,  and  she  lay  intently  regarding  the 
cross,  while  her  lips  moved  in  prayer. 

"  Try  to  lib,  darlin',"  interrupted  Esha  ;  "  try  to  lib,  —  dat  's 
a  good  darHn' !     Only  try,  an'  yer  kn  do  it  easy." 

Estelle  took  the  little  cross  in  her  hand  and  kissed  it,  then 
said  to  Esha,  "  Give  this,  with  a  lock  of  my  hair,  to  —  " 

Before  she  could  pronounce  my  name,  I  rallied  my  strength, 
and,  with  an  irrepressible  cry  of  grief,  quitted  Peek's  support, 


144  PECULUR. 

and  rushed  to  her  side.  I  spoke  her  name.  I  took  her  dear 
head  in  my  hands.  She  turned  on  me  eyes  beaming  with  an 
immortal  affection.  A  celestial  smile  iiTadiated  her  face.  Her 
lips  pouted  as  if  pleading  for  a  kiss.  I  obeyed  the  invitation, 
and  she  acknowledged  my  compliance  by  an  affirmative  motion 
of  the  head ;  a  motion  that  was  playful  even  in  that  supreme 
moment. 

''  My  own  darling  !  "  she  murmured  ;  "  I  knew  you  would 
come.     O  my  poor,  suffering  darling  !  " 

Then,  with  a  sudden  effort,  she  threw  her  arms  about  my 
neck,  and,  di'awing  me  closer  down  to  her  bosom,  said,  in  sweet, 
low  tones  of  tenderness  :  "  Love  me  still  as  among  the  living. 
I  do  not  die.  The  body  dies.  I  do  not  die.  Love  cannot 
die.  "Wlio  believes  in  death,  never  loved.  You  may  not  see 
me,  but  I  shall  see  you.  So  be  a  good  boy.  Do  good  to 
all.  Love  all ;  so  shall  you  love  me  the  better.  I  do  not 
part  with  my  love.  I  take  it  where  it  will  grow  and  grow,  so 
as  to  be  all  the  more  fit  to  welcome  my  darling.  Carrying  my 
love,  I  carry  my  heaven  with  me.  It  would  not  be  heaven 
without  my  love.  I  have  been  with  my  father  and  mother. 
So  beautiful  they  are  !  And  such  music  I  have  heard !  There  ! 
Lay  your  cheek  on  my  bare  bosom.  So  !  You  do  not  hurt  me. 
Closer  !  closer  !     Carissune  Jesu,  nunc  libera  me  !  "  * 

Thus  murmm'ing  a  line  from  a  Latin  poem  which  she  had 
learnt  in  the  convent  where  her  childhood  was  passed,  her  pure 
spirit,  without  a  struggle  or  a  throe  of  pain,  disentangled  itself 
from  its  lovely  mortal  mould,  and  rose  into  the  purer  ether  of 
the  immortal  life. 


I  afterwards  learnt  that  Ratcliff,  finding  Estelle  inexorable 
in  her  rejection  of  his  foul  proffers,  was  wrought  to  such  a 
pitch  of  rage  that  he  swore,  unless  she  relented,  she  should  be 
married  to  a  nesro  slave.      He  told  her  he  had  a  smart  niofaer 


CO 


*  The  line  is  from  the  follo'n'ing  prayer,  attributed  to  ^lary,  Queen  of  Scots : 
*'  0  domine  Deus,  speravi  in  Te ; 
Carissime  Jesu,  nunc  hbera  me! 
In  dura  catena,  in  misera  poena, 
Desidero  Te! 

Languendo,  gemendo,  et  genuflectendo, 
Adoro,  imploro,  ut  liberes  me." 


THE  STORY   OF   ESTELLE.  145 

he  had  recently  bought  in  New  Orleans,  a  fellow  named  Peek, 
who  should  be  her  husband.  Goaded  to  desperation  by  his 
infamous  threats,  Estelle  had  replied,  "  Better  even  a  negro 
than  a  Ratcliff !  "  This  reply  had  stung  him  to  a  degree  that 
was  quite  intolerable. 

To  be  not -only  thwarted  by  a  female  slave,  but  insulted, — 
he,  a  South  Carolinian,  a  man  born  to  command,  —  a  man  with 
such  a  figure  and  such  a  face  rejected  for  a  strolling  actor, — 
a  vagabond,  a  fellow,  too,  who  had  knocked  him  down,  —  wliat 
slave-owner  would  tamely  submit  to  such  mortification  !  He 
brooded  on  the  insult  till  his  cruel  purpose  took  shape  and  con- 
sistency in  his  mind  ;  and  it  was  finally  carried  out  in  the  way 
I  have  described. 

It  may  seem  almost  incredible  to  you  who  are  from  the 
North,  that  any  man  not  msane  should  be  guilty  of  such  atroci- 
ties. But  Mr.  Onslow  need  not  be  told  that  slavery  educates 
men  —  men,  too,  of  a  certain  refinement  —  to  deeds  even  moie 
cowardly  and  fiendish.  Do  not  imagine  that  the  tyrant  Avho 
would  not  scruple  to  put  a  black  skin  under  the  lash,  would 
hesitate  in  regard  to  a  white ;  and  the  note-book  of  many 
an  overseer  will  show  that  of  the  whippings  inflicted  under 
slavery,  more  than  one  third  are  of  women.* 

For  three  weeks  I  was  under  Peek's  care.  Thanks  to  his 
tenderness  and  zeal,  my  wounds  were  healed,  my  strength  was 
restored.  Early  in  December  I  parted  from  him  and  returned 
to  New  Orleans.  I  went  to  my  old  friends,  the  Leroux.  They 
did  not  recognize  me  at  first,  so  wasted  was  I  by  suffering. 
Madame  forgot  her  own  troubles  in  mine,  and  welcomed  me 
with  a  inother's  affection.  The  grandchildren  subdued  their 
riotous  mirth,  and  trod  softly  lest  they  should  disturb  me.  The 
old  Captain  wept  and  raved  over  my  story,  and  uttered  more 
sricr-r-r^es  in  a  given  time  than  I  supposed  even  a  French- 
man's volubility  could  accomplish.  I  bade  these  kind  friends 
good  by,  and  went  northward. 

In  Cincinnati  and  other  cities  I  resumed  my  old  vocation  as 
a  play-actor.     In  two  years,  having  laid  up  twenty-five  hundred 

*  Some  of  these  note-books  have  been  brought  to  liglit  by  tlie  civil  war, 
and  a  quotation  from  one  of  them  will  be  found  on  another  page  of  this  work' 
7  J 


146  PECULIAR. 

dollars,  I  returned  to  the  Red  River  country  to  secure  the 
freedom  of  the  slave  to  whom  I  owed  my  life.  He  had  changed 
masters.  It  had  got  to  Ratcliff's  ears  that  Peek  had  cheated 
him  in  sparing  Estelle  and  rescuing  me.  He  questioned  Peek 
on  the  subject.  Peek,  throwing  aside  all  his  habitual  caution, 
had  declared,  in  regard  to  Estelle,  that  if  she  had  been  the  Virgin 
Miu'j  he  could  not  have  treated  her  with  more  reverence ;  that 
he  had  saved  my  life,  and  restored  me  to  her  arms.  Then, 
shaking  his  fist  at  Ratcliff,  he  denounced  him  as  a  murderer 
and  a  coward.  The  result  was,  that  Peek,  after  having  been 
put  through  such  a  scourging  as  few  men  could  endure  and 
survive,  had  been  sold  to  a  Mr.  Barnwell  in  Texas. 

I  followed  Peek  to  his  new  abode,  and  proposed  either  to 
buy  and  free  him,  or  to  aid  him  to  escape.  He  bade  me  save 
my  money  for  those  who  could  not  help  themselves.  He  meant 
to  be  free,  but  did  not  mean  to  pay  for  that  which  was  his 
by  right.  At  that  time  he  was  investigating  certain  strange 
occurrences  produced  by  some  invisible  agency  that  claimed  to 
be  spiritual.  He  must  remain  where  he  was  a  while  longer. 
I  was  under  no  serious  obligations  to  him,  he  said.  He 
had  simply  done  his  duty. 

We  parted.  I  tried  to  find  the  woman  Esha,  who  had  been 
kind  to  my  wife,  but  she  had  been  sold  no  one  knew  to  whom. 
I  went  to  New  Orleans,  and  assuming,  by  legislative  permission, 
the  name  of  William  Vance,  I  entered  into  cotton  speculations. 

My  features  had  been  so  changed  by  suffering,  that  few 
recognized  me.  My  operations  were  bold  and  successful.  In 
four  yeai'S  I  had  accumulated  a  little  fortune.  Oc<^asionally  I 
would  meet  Ratcliff.  Once  I  had  him  completely  in  my 
power.  He  was  in  the  passage-way  leading  to  my  office. 
I  could  have  dragged  him  in  and  — 

No !  The  revenge  seemed  too  poor  and  narrow.  I  craved 
something  huge  and  general.  The  mere  punishing  of  an 
individual  was  too  puny  an  expenditure  of  my  hoarded  ven- 
geance. But  to  strike  at  the  "  institution  "  which  had  spawned 
this  and  similar  monsters,  that  would  be  some  small  satisfac- 
tion. 

Closing  up  my  affairs  in  New  Orleans,  I  entered  upon  that 
career  which  has  gained  me  such  notoriety  in  the  Southwest, 


THE   STORY   OF  ESTELLE.  147 

I  have  run  off  many  thousand  slaves,  worth  in  the  aggregate 
many  millions  of  dollars.  My  theatrical  experience  has  made 
me  a  daring  expert  in  disguising  myself.  At  one  time  I  am  a 
mulatto  with  a  gash  across  my  face ;  at  another  time,  an  old 
man ;  at  another,  a  mean  whiskey-swilling  hanger-on  of  the 
chivalry.  My  task  is  only  just  begun.  It  is  not  till  we  have 
given  slavery  its  immedicable  wound,  or  rather  till  it  has 
itself  committed  suicide  in  the  house  of  its  friends,  that  I  shall 
be  ready  to  say,  Nunc  dimittas,  domi-ne  !  * 

*  Should  any  person  question  the  probability  of  the  incidents  in  Vance's 
narrative,  we  would  refer  him  to  the  "  Letter  to  Thomas  Carlyle"  in  the 
Atlantic  Monthly  for  October,  1863.  On  page  501,  we  find  the  following: 
"  Within  the  past  year,  a  document  has  come  into  my  hands.  It  is  the 
private  diary  of  a  most  eminent  and  respectable  slaveholder,  recently  de- 
ceased.    The  chances  of  war  threw  it  into  the  hands  of  our  troops 

One  item  I  must  have  the  courage  to  suggest  more  definitely.  Having 
bidden  a  young  slave-girl  (whose  name,  age,  color,  &c.,  with  the  shame- 
less precision  that  marks  the  entire  document,  are  given)  to  attend  upon 
his  brutal  pleasure,  and  she  silently  remaining  away,  he  writes,  '  Next  morn- 
ing ordered  her  a  dozen  lashes  for  disobedience.'  "  In  a  foot-note  to  the 
above  we  are  assured  by  Messrs.  Tickuor  and  Fields  that  the  author  of 
the  letter  is  "  one  whose  word  is  not  and  cannot  be  called  in  question ;  and 
he  pledges  his  word  that  the  above  is  exact  and  proven  fact." 


148  PECULIAR. 

CHAPTER    XIII. 

FIRE  up! 

"  What  is  the  end  and  essence  of  life  ?  It  is  to  expand  all  our  faculties  and  affections. 
It  is  to  grow,  to  gain  by  exercise  new  energy,  new  intellect,  new  love.  It  is  to  hope,  to 
strive,  to  bring  out  what  is  within  us,  to  press  towards  what  is  above  us.  In  other 
words,  it  is  to  be  Free.  Slavery  is  thus  at  war  with  the  true  life  of  human  nature."  — 
Channing. 

AT  the  conclusion  of  Vance's  narrative,  Mr.  Onslow  rose, 
shook  him  by  the  hand,  and  walked  away  without  mak- 
ing a  remark. 

Mrs.  Berwick  showed  her  appreciation  by  her  teai*s. 

"  What  a  pity,"  said  her  husband,  "  that  so  fine  a  fellow  as 
Peek  did  not  accept  your  proposal  to  free  him  ! " 

"  Peek  freed  himself,"  i-eplied  Vance.  "  He  escaped  to 
Canada,  married,  settled  in  Xew  York,  and  was  living  happily, 
when  a  few  days  ago,  rather  than  go  before  a  United  States 
Commissioner,  he  surrendered  himself  to  that  representative 
of  the  master  race.  Colonel  Delancy  Hyde,  to  whom  you  have 
had  the  honor  to  be  introduced.  Peek  is  now  on  board  this 
boat,  and  handcuffed,  lest  he  should  jump  overboard  and  s^vim 
ashore.     If  you  wiU  walk  forward,  I  mil  show  him  to  you." 

Greatly  surprised  and  interested,  the  Berwicks  followed 
Vance  to  the  railing,  and  looked  down  on  Peek  as  he  reclined 
in  the  sunshine  reading  a  newspaper. 

"  But  he  must  be  freed.     I  will  buy  him,"  said  BerAvick. 

"  Don't  trouble  yourself,"  returned  Vance.  "  Peek  \vWl  be 
free  without  money  and  without  price,  and  he  knows  it.  Those 
iron  wristbands  you  see  are  already  filed  apart." 

"  Are  there  many  such  as  he  among  the  negroes  ?  " 

"  Not  many,  I  fear,  either  among  blacks  or  whites,"  rephed 
Vance.  "  But,  considering  their  social  deprivations,  there  are 
more  good  men  and  true  among  the  negroes  —  ay,  among  the 
slaves  —  than  you  of  the  North  imagine.  Your  ideal  of  the 
negro  is  what  you  derive  from  the  Ethiopian  minstrels  and 
from  the  books  and  plays  written  to  ridicule  him.     His  type 


FIRE  UP!  149 

is  a  low,  ignorant  trifler  and  buffoon,  unfit  to  be  other  than  a 
slave  or  an  outcast.  Thus,  by  your  injurious  estimate,  you  lend 
your.-  elves  to  the  support  and  justification  of  slavery." 

"  Would  you  admit  the  black  to  a  social  equiility  ?  " 

"  I  would  admit  him,"  replied  Vance,  "  to  all  the  civil  rights 
of  the  white.  There  are  many  men  whom  I  am  willing  to  ac- 
knowledge my  equals,  whose  society  I  may  not  covet.  That 
does  not  at  all  affect  the  question  of  their  rights.  Let  us  give 
the  black  man  a  fair  field.  Let  us  not  begin  by  declaring  his 
inferiority  in  capacity,  and  then  anxiously  strive  to  prevent  his 
finding  a  chance  to  prove  our  declaration  untrue." 

"  But  would  you  favor  the  amalgamation  of  the  races  ?  " 

"  That  is  a  question  for  physiologists  ;  or,  perhaps,  for  indi- 
vidual instincts.  Probably  if  all  the  slaves  were  emancipated 
in  all  the  Cotton  States,  amalgamation  would  be  much  less  than 
it  is  now.  The  French  Quadroons  are  handsome  and  healthy, 
and  are  believed  to  be  more  vigorous  than  either  of  the  parent 
races  from  which  they  are  descended." 

"  Many  of  the  most  strenuous  opponents  of  emancipation 
base  their  objections  on  their  fears  of  amalgamation." 

"  To  which,"  replied  Vance,  "  I  will  reply  in  these  words  of 
one  of  your  Northern  divines,  '  What  a  strange  reason  for  op- 
pressing a  race  of  fellow -beings,  that  if  we  restore  them  to  their 
rights  we  shall  marry  them  ! '  Many  of  these  men  who  cry  out 
the  loudest  against  amalgamation  keep  colored  mistresses,  and 
practically  confute  their  own  protests.  To  marriage,  but  not 
to  concubinage,  they  object." 

"  I  see  no  way  for  emancipation,"  said  Berwick,  "  except 
through  the  consent  of  the  Slave  States." 

"  God  will  find  a  way,"  returned  Vance.  "  He  infatuates 
before  he  destroys  ;  and  the  infatuation  which  foreruns  destruc- 
tion has  seized  upon  the  leading  men  of  the  South.  Plagiariz- 
ing from  Satan,  they  have  said  to  slavery,  'Evil,  be  thou  our 
good ! '  They  are  bent  on  having  a  Southern  Confederacy  with 
power  to  extend  slavery  through  Mexico  into  Central  America. 
That  can  never  be  attempted  without  civil  war,  and  civil  war 
will  be  the  end  of  slavery." 

"  Would  you  not,"  asked  Berwick,  "  compensate  those  mas- 
ters who  are  \Nilling  to  emancipate  their  slaves  ?  " 


150  PECULIAR. 

"  I  deny,"  said  Vance,  "  that  property  in  slaves  can  morally 
exist.  No  decision  of  the  State  can  absolve  me  from  the  moral 
law.  It  is  a  sham  and  a  lie  to  say  that  man  can  hold  property 
in  man.  The  right  to  make  the  black  man  a  slave  implies  the 
right  to  make  you  or  me  a  slave.  No  legislation  can  make 
such  a  claim  valid.  No  vote  of  a  majority  can  make  an  act  of 
tyranny  right,  —  can  convert  an  innocent  man  into  a  chattel. 
All  the  world  may  cry  out  it  is  right,  but  they  cannot  make  it 
so.  The  slaveholder,  in  emancipating  his  slave,  merely  sur- 
renders what  is  not  his  own.  I  would  be  as  liberal  to  him  in 
the  way  of  encouragement  as  the  public  means  would  justify. 
But  the  loss  of  the  planter  from  emancipation  is  gi-eatly  over 
estimated.  His  land  would  soon  double  in  value  by  the  act ; 
and  the  colored  freedmen  would  be  on  thje  soil,  candidates  for 
wages,  and  with  incentives  to  labor  they  never  had  before.'* 

The  bell  for  dinner  broke  in  upon  the  conversation.  It  was 
not  till  evening  that  the  parties  met  again  on  the  upper  deck. 

"  I  have  been  talking  with  Peek,"  said  Berwick,  "  and  to 
my  dismay  I  find  he  was  betrayed  by  the  husband  of  my 
step-mother.     You  must  help  me  cancel  this  infernal  wrong." 

"  I  have  laid  my  plans  for  taking  all  these  negroes  ashore  at 
midnight  at  our  next  stopping-place,"  replied  Vance.  "  I  am 
to  personate  their  owner.  The  keepers  of  the  boat,  who  have 
seen  me  so  much  with  Hyde,  will  offer  no  opposition.  He  is 
already  so  drunk  that  we  have  had  to  put  him  to  bed.  He 
begged  me  to  look  after  his  niggers.  Whiskey  had  made  him 
sentimental.     He  wept  maudlin  tears,  and  wanted  to  kiss  me." 

"  Here  's  a  check,"  said  Berwick,  "  for  twenty-five  hundred 
dollars.     Give  it  to  Peek  the  moment  he  is  free." 

Vance  placed  it  in  a  small  water-proof  wallet. 

What 's  the  matter  ? 

A  rush  and  a  commotion  on  the  deck  !  Captain  Crane  left 
the  wheel-house,  and  jumped  over  the  railing  down  to  the  lower 
deck  forward,  his  mouth  bubbling  and  foaming  with  oaths. 

There  had  been  a  slackening  of  the  fires,  and  the  Champion 
was  all  at  once  found  to  be  fast  gaining  on  the  Pontiac. 

"  Fire  up  ! "  yelled  the  Captain.  "  Pile  on  the  turpentine 
splinters.  Biing  up  the  rosin.  Blast  yer  all  for  a  set  of  cow- 
ardly cusses  !  I  'm  bound  to  land  yer  either  in  Helena  or  hell, 
ahead  of  the  Champion." 


WAITING  FOR  THE  SUMMONER.  151 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

WAITING  FOR  THE  SUMMONER. 

"  So  every  spirit,  as  it  is  more  pure, 
And  hath  in  it  the  more  of  heavenly  light, 
So  it  the  fairer  body  doth  procure, 
To  habit  in,  and  it  more  fairly  dight 
With  cheerful  grace  and  amiable  sight. 
For  of  the  soul  the  body  form  doth  take. 
For  8oul  is  form,  and  doth  the  body  make." 

Edmund  Spenser. 

IN  the  best  chamber  of  the  house  of  Pierre  Toussaint  in 
Franklin  Street,  looking  out  on  blossoming  grape-vines  and 
a  nectarine-tree  in  the  area,  sat  Mrs.  Charlton  in  an  arm-chair, 
and  propped  by  pillows.  Her  wasted  features  showed  that 
disease  had  made  rapid  progress  since  the  glance  we  had  of  her 
in  the  mirror. 

A  knock  at  the  door  was  followed  by  the  entrance  of  Tous- 
saint. 

"  "Well,  Toussaint,  what 's  the  news  to-day  ?  "  asked  the  in- 
valid. 

Toussaint  replied  in  French :  "  I  do  not  find  much  of  new  in 
the  morning  papers,  madame.  Is  madame  ready  for  her  break- 
fast?" 

"  Yes,  any  time  now.  I  see  my  little  Lulu  is  washing  him- 
self." 

Lulu  was  the  canary-bii-d.  Toussaint  quitted  the  room  and 
returned  in  a  few  minutes,  bringing  in  a  tray,  spread  with  the 
whitest  of  napkins,  and  holding  a  silver  urn  of  boiling  water,  a 
pitcher  of  cream,  and  two  little  shining  pots,  one  filled  with 
coffee,  the  other  with  tea.  The  viands  were  a  small  roll,  with 
butter,  an  omelette,  and  a  piece  of  fresh-broiled  salmon. 

"  Sit  down  and  talk  with  me,  Toussaint,  while  I  eat,"  said 
the  invalid.     "  Have  you  seen  my  husband  lately  ?  " 

"  Not,  madame,  since  he  called  to  recover  the  box." 

"  Has  he  sent  to  make  inquiry  in  regard  to  my  health  ?  " 


152  PECULIAR. 

"  Not  once,  to  my  knowledge." 

"  I  cannot  reconcile  my  husband's  indifference  with  his  fond- 
ness for  money.  He  must  know  that  my  death  will  deprive 
him  of  twelve  hundred  a  year.  How  do  you  account  for  it, 
Toussaint  ?  " 

"  Pardon  me,  madame,  but  I  would  rather  not  say." 

"  And  why  not  ?  " 

"  My  sm-niise  may  be  uncharitable,  or  it  might  give  you  pain." 

"  Do  not  fear  that,  Toussaint.  I  have  surrendered  what 
they  say  is  the  last  thing  a  woman  surrenders,  —  all  personal 
vanity.     So  speak  freely." 

"  Mr.  Charlton  is  young  and  good-looking,  madame,  and  he 
is  probably  well  aware  that,  in  the  event  of  his  being  left  a 
widower,  it  would  not  be  difficult  for  him  to  form  a  marriage 
connection  that  would  bring  him  a  much  larger  income  than 
that  you  supply." 

"  Nothing  more  likely,  Toussaint.  How  strange  that  I  can 
talk  of  these  things  so  calmly,  —  eating  my  breakfast,  thus  ! 
They  say  that  a  woman  who  has  once  truly  loved  must  always 
love.     "What  do  you  think,  Toussaint  ?  " 

"  This,  madame,  that  if  we  love  a  thing  because  we  think  it 
good,  and  then  find,  on  trial,  that  it  is  not  good,  but  very  bad, 
our  love  cannot  continue  the  same." 

"But  do  we  not,  in  marriage,  promise  to  love,  honor,  and 
obey  ? " 

"  Not  by  the  Catholic  form,  madame.  Try  to  force  love,  you 
kill  it.  It  is  like  trying  to  force  an  appetite.  You  make  your- 
self sick  at  the  stomach  in  the  attempt." 

Here  there  was  a  ring  at  the  door-bell,  and  Toussaint  left 
the  room.  On  his  return  he  said :  "  The  husband  of  madame 
is  below.     He  wdshes  to  speak  with  madame." 

Surprised  and  disturbed,  Mrs.  Charlton  said,  "  Take  away 
the  breakfast  things." 

"  But  madame  has  not  touched  the  salmon  nor  the  omelette, 
and  only  a  poor  little  bit  of  the  crust  of  this  roll,"  mm-mured 
Toussaint. 

"  I  have  had  enough,  my  good  Toussaint.  Take  them  away, 
and  let  'Mr.  Charlton  come  in." 

Then,  as  if  by  way  of  contradicting  what  she  had  said  a 


WAITING  FOR  THE  SUMMONER.  153 

moment  before,  she  began  smoothing  her  hair  and  arranging 
her  shawl.  The  inconsistency  between  her  practice  and  her 
profession  seemed  to  suggest  itself  to  her  suddenly,  for  she 
smiled  sadly,  and  murmured,  "After  all,  I  have  not  quite  out- 
lived my  folly ! " 

Charlton  entered  unaccompanied.  His  manner  was  that  of 
a  man  who  has  a  big  scheme  in  his  head,  which  he  is  trying  to 
disguise  and  undervalue.  Moved  by  an  unwonted  excitement, 
he  strove  to  appear  calm  and  indifferent,  but,  like  a  bad  actor, 
he  overdid  his  part. 

"  I  have  come,  Emily,"  said  he,  "  to  ask  your  pardon  for  the 
past." 

"  Indeed  !  Then  you  want  something.  What  can  I  do  for 
you?" 

"  You  misapprehend  me,  my  dear.  Affairs  have  gone  wrong 
with  me  of  late ;  but  my  prospects  are  brightening  now,  and  my 
wish  is  that  you  should  have  the  benefit  of  the  change." 

"  My  time  for  this  world's  benefits  is  likely  to  be  short,"  said 
the  invalid. 

"  Not  so,  my  dear  !  You  are  looking  ten  per  cent  better  than 
when  I  saw  you  last." 

"  My  glass  tells  me  you  do  not  speak  truly  in  that.  Come, 
deal  frankly  with  me.     What  do  you  want  ?  " 

"As  I  was  saying,  my  love,"  resumed  Charlton,  "  my  business 
is  improving;  but  I  need  a  somewhat  more  extended  credit, 
and  you  can  help  me  to  it." 

"  I  thought  there  was  something  wanted,"  returned  the  in- 
valid, with  a  scornful  smile;  "but  you  overrate  my  ability. 
How  can  I  help  your  credit?  The  annuity  allowed  by  Mr. 
Berwick  ends  with  my  life.  I  have  no  property,  real  or  per- 
sonal, —  except  my  canary-bird,  and  what  few  clothes  you  can 
find  in  yonder  wardrobe." 

"  But,  my  dear,"  urged  Charlton,  "  many  persons  imagine 
that  you  have  property ;  and  if  I  could  only  show  them  an 
authenticated  instrument  under  which  you  bequeath,  in  the 
event  of  your  death,  all  your  estate,  real  and  personal,  to  your 
husband,  it  would  aid  me  materially  in  raising  money." 

"  That,  sir,  would  be  raising  money  under  false  pretences. 
I  shall  lend  myself  to  no  such  attempt.  Why  not  tell  the 
7* 


154  PECULIAR. 

money-lenders  the  truth  ?  Why  not  tell  them  your  wife 
has  nothing  except  what  she  receives  from  the  charity  of  her 
step-son  ?  "■ 

Enraged  at  seeing  how  completely  his  victim  had  thro\vn  off 
his  influence,  and  at  the  same  time  indulging  a  vague  hope  that 
he  might  recover  it,  Charlton's  lips  began  to  work  as  if  he  were 
hesitating  whether  to  try  his  old  game  of  browbeating  or  to 
adopt  a  conciliatory  course.  A  suspicion  that  the  lady  was 
disenchanted,  and  no  longer  subject  to  any  spell  he  could  throw 
upon  her,  led  him  to  fall  back  on  the  more  prudent  policy ;  and 
he  replied:  ''I  have  concealed  nothing  from  the  parties  with 
whom  I  am  negotiating.  I  have  told  them  the  precise  situation 
of  our  affairs ;  but  they  have  urged  this  contingency :  your 
wife,  it  is  true,  is  dependent,  but  her  rich  relatives  may  die  and 
leave  her  a  bequest.  We  will  give  you  the  money  you  want, 
if  you  will  satisfy  us  that  you  are  her  heir." 

"  You  fatigue  me,"  said  the  invalid.  "  You  wish  me  to  make 
a  wiU  in  your  favor.  You  have  the  instruments  all  drawn  up 
and  ready  for  my  signature  in  your  pocket ;  and  on  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  street  you  have  three  men  in  waiting  who  may 
serve  as  witnesses." 

"  But  who  told  you  this  ?  "  exclaimed  Charlton,  confounded. 

"  Your  own  brain  by  its  motions  told  it,"  replied  the  wife. 
"I  am  rather  sensitive  to  impressions,  you  see.  Strike  one 
of  the  chords  of  a  musical  instrument,  and  a  corresponding 
chord  in  its  duplicate  near  by  will  be  agitated.  Your  drift  is 
apparent.  The  allusions  under  which  I  have  labored  in  regard 
to  you  have  vanished,  never,  never  to  return !  How  I  deferred 
the  moment  of  final,  irrevocable  estrangement !  How  I  strove, 
by  meekness,  love,  and  devotion,  to  win  you  to  the  better 
choice  !  How  I  shut  my  eyes  to  your  sordid  traits  !  But  now 
the  infatuation  is  ended.  You  are  powerless  to  wound  or  to 
move  me.  The  love  you  spurned  has  changed,  not  to  hate,  but 
to  indifference.  Free  to  choose  between  God  and  Mammon, 
you  have  chosen  Mammon,  and  nothing  I  can  say  can  make 
you  reconsider  your  election." 

"  You  do  me  injustice,  my  wife,  my  dearest  — " 

"Psha!  Do  not  blaspheme.  We  understand  each  other 
at  last.     Now  to  business.    You  want  me  to  sign  a  will  in  your 


WAITING   FOR   THE   SUMMONER.  155 

favor,  leaving  you  all  the  property  I  may  be  possessed  of  at 
the  time  of  my  death.  Would  you  know  when  that  time 
wiU  be?" 

"■  Do  not  speak  so,  Emily,"  said  Charlton,  in  tones  meant  to 
be  pathetic. 

"  It  may  be  an  agi'eeable  surprise  to  you,"  continued  the 
invalid,  "  to  leam  that  my  time  in  this  world  will  be  up  the 
tenth  of  next  month.     I  will  sign  the  will,  on  one  condition." 

"  Name  it !  "  said  Charlton,  eagerly. 

"  The  condition  is,  that  you  pay  Toussaint  a  thousand  dollars 
cash  down  as  an  indemnity  for  the  expense  he  has  been  at 
on  my  account,  and  to  cover  the  costs  of  my  funeral." 

With  difficulty  Charlton  curbed  his  rage  so  far  as  to  be 
content  with  the  simple  utterance,  "  Impossible  ! " 

"  Then  please  go,"  said  the  invalid,  taking  up  a  silver  bell  to 
ring  it. 

"  Stop  !  stop  ! "  cried  Charlton.  "  Give  me  a  minute  to  con- 
sider. Three  hundred  dollars  will  more  than  cover  all  the 
expenses, —  medical  attendance,  undertaker's  charges, —  all. 
At  least,  I  know  an  undertaker  who  charges  less  than  half 
what  such  fellows  as  Brown  of  Grace  pile  on.  Say  three  hun- 
dred dollars." 

With  a  smile  of  indescribable  scorn,  the  invalid  touched  the 
bell. 

"  Stop !  We  '11  call  it  five  hundred,"  groaned  the  convey- 
ancer. 

A  louder  ring  by  the  lady,  and  the  old  negro's  step  was  heard 
on  the  stairs. 

"  Seven  hundred,  —  eight  hundred :  O,  I  could  n't  possibly 
afford  more  than  eight  hundred ! "  said  Charlton,  in  a  tone 
the  pathos  of  which  was  no  longer  feigned. 

The  invalid  now  I'ang  the  bell  with  energy. 

"  It  shall  be  a  thousand,  then  !  "  exclaimed  Charlton,  just  as 
Toussaint  entered  the  room. 

"  Toussaint,"  said  the  invalid,  "  Mi\  Charlton  has  a  paper  he 
wishes  me  to  sign.  I  have  promised  to  do  it  on  his  paying  you 
a  thousand  dollars.  Accept  it  without  demur.  Do  you  under- 
stand ?  " 

Toussaint  bowed  his  assent ;  and  Charlton,  leaving  the  room. 


156  PECULIAR. 

returned  with  his  three  witnesses.  The  sum  stipulated  was 
paid  to  Toussaint,  and  the  will  was  duly  signed  and  witnessed. 
Possessed  of  the  document,  Charlton's  first  impulse  was  to  vent 
his  wrath  upon  his  wife ;  but  he  discreetly  remembered  that, 
while  Ufe  remained,  it  was  in  her  power  to  revoke  what  she  had 
done  ;  so  he  dismissed  his  witnesses,  and  began  to  play  the 
fawner  once  more.     But  he  was  checked  abruptly. 

''  There  !  you  Aveary  me.  Go,  if  you  please,"  said  she. 
*•  If  I  have  occasion,  I  will  send  for  you." 

'-  May  I  not  call  daily  to  *see  how  you  are  getting  on  ? " 
whined  Charlton. 

"  I  really  don't  see  any  use  in  it,"  replied  the  invalid.  '-  If 
you  wiU  look  in  the  newspapers  under  the  obituary  head  the 
eleventh  or  twelfth  of  next  month,  you  will  probably  get  all  the 
information  in  regard  to  me  that  will  be  important." 

"  Cruel  and  unjust ! "  said  the  husband.  "  Have  you  no 
forgiven'ess  in  your  heart  ?  " 

"  Forgiveness  ?  Trampled  on,  my  heart  has  given  out  love 
and  duty  in  the  hope  of  finding  some  spot  in  your  own  heart 
which  avarice  and  self-seeking  had  not  yet  petrified.  But  I 
despair  of  doing  aught  to  change  your  nature.  I  must  leave 
you  to  God  and  cu-cumstance.  Neither  you  nor  any  other 
offender  shall  lack  my  forgiveness,  however ;  for  in  that  I  only 
give  what  I  supremely  need.     Farewell." 

"  Good  by,  since  you  will  not  let  me  try  to  make  amends  for 
the  past,"  said  Charlton  ;  and  he  quitted  the  room. 

Half  soiTy  for  her  own  harshness,  and  thinking  she  might 
have  misjudged  her  husband's  present  feelings,  the  invalid  got 
Toussaint  to  help  her  into  the  next  room,  where  she  could  look 
through  the  blinds.  No  sooner  was  Charlton  in  the  street  than 
he  drew  from  his  pocket  the  will,  and  walked  slowly  on  as  if 
feasting  his  eyes  on  its  contents.  With  a  gesture  of  exultation, 
he  finally  retm-ned  the  paper  to  his  pocket,  and  strode  briskly 
up  the  street  to  Broadway. 

"  You  see  !  "  said  the  invalid,  bitterly.  "  And  I  loved  that 
man  once !  And  there  are  worthy  people  who  would  say  I 
ought  to  love  him  still.  Love  him  ?  TeU  my  little  Lulu  to 
love  a  cat  or  a  hawk.  How  can  I  love  what  I  find  on  testing 
to  be  repugnant  to  my  o\vn  nature  ?     Tell  me,  Toussaint,  does 


WAITING  FOR  THE  SUMMONER.  157 

God  require  we  should  love  what  we  know  to  be  impure, 
unjust,  cruel  ?  " 

"  Ah,  madame,  the  good  God,  I  suppose,  would  have  us  love 
the  wicked  so  far  as  to  help  them  to  get  rid  of  their  wick- 
edness." 

"  But  there  are  some  who  will  not  be  helped,"  said  the  in- 
valid. "  Take  the  wickedness  out  of  some  persons,  and  we 
should  deprive  them  of  their  very  individuality,  and  practically 
anniliilate  them." 

"  God  knows,"  replied  Toussaint ;  "  time  is  short,  and  eternity 
is  long,  —  long  enough,  perhaps,  to  bleach  the  filthiest  nature, 
with  Christ's  help." 

"  Right,  Toussaint.^-  What  claim  have  I  to  judge  of  the 
capacities  for  redemption  in  a  human  soul  ?  But  there  is  a 
terrible  mystery  to  me  in  these  false  conjunctions  of  man  and 
woman.  Why  should  the  loving  be  united  to  the  unloving  and 
the  brutal  ?  " 

"  Simply,  madame,  because  this  is  earth,  and  not  heaven. 
In  the  next  life  all  masks  must  be  dropped.  What  will  the 
hypocrite  and  the  impostor  do  then  ?  Then  the  loving  will 
find  the  loving,  and  the  pure  will  find  the  pure.  Then  our 
bodies  will  be  fair  or  ugly,  black  or  white,  according  to  our 
characters." 

"  I  believe  it ! "  exclaimed  the  invalid.  "  Yes,  there  is  an 
infinite  compassion  over  all.  God  Hves,  and  the  soul  does  not 
die,  and  the  mistakes,  the  infelicities,  the  shortcomings  of  this 
life  shall  be  as  fuel  to  kindle  our  aspirations  and  illumine  our 
path  in  another  stage  of  being." 

Here  a  clamorous  newsboy  stopped  on  the  other  side  of  the 
way  to  sell  a  gentleman  an  Extra. 

"  What  is  that  boy  crying  ?  "  asked  the  invalid. 

"A  great  steamboat  accident  on  the  Mississippi,"  replied 
Toussaint. 


158  PECULIAR. 

CHAPTER    XV. 

WHO  SHALL  BE  HEIR? 

"  I  care  not,  Fortune,  what  you  me  deny. 
You  cannot  rob  me  of  free  Nature's  grace  •, 
You  cannot  shut  the  windows  of  the  sky, 
Through  which  Aurora  shows  her  brightening  face." 

Tkonwon. 

WHEN  we  parted  from  Mr.  Pompilard,  lie  was  tiying  to 
negotiate  a  mortgage  for  thirty  thousand  dollars  on 
some  real  estate  belonging  to  his  wife.  This  mortgage  was 
eflfected  \\dthout  recom:^e  to  the  Berwicks,  as  was  also  a 
second  mortgage  of  five  thousand  doUars,  which  left  the  prop- 
erty so  encumbered  that  no  further  supply  could  be  raised 
from  it. 

The  money  thus  obtained  lSIi\  Pompilard  forthwith  cast 
upon  the  waters  of  that  great  financial  maelstrom  in  Wall 
Street  which  swallows  so  many  fortunes.  This  tune  he  lost ; 
and  our  story  now  finds  him  and  his  family  estabHshed  in  the 
poorer  half  of  a  double  house,  wooden,  and  of  very  humble  pre- 
tensions, situated  in  Harlem,  some  seven  or  eight  miles  from 
the  heart  of  the  great  metropolis.  Compared  with  the  princely 
seat  he  once  occupied  on  the  Hudson,  what  a  poor  little  den  it 
was ! 

A  warm,  almost  sultiy  noon  in  May  was  brooding  over  the 
unpaved  street.  The  peach-trees  showed  their  pink  blossoms, 
and  the  pear-trees  their  white,  in  the  neighboring  enclosures. 
All  that  jMr.  Pompilard  could  look  out  upon  in  his  poor,  nar- 
row little  area  was  a  clothes-line  and  a  few  tufts  of  gi-ass  with 
the  bald  soil  uiterspersed.  Yet  there  in  his  little  back  parlor 
he  sat  reading  the  last  new  novel. 

Suddenly  he  heard  cries  of  murder  in  the  other  half  of  his 
domicil.  Throwing  down  his  book,  he  went  out  through  the 
open  window,  and,  stepping  on  a  little  plank  walk  dignified 
with  the  name  of  a  piazza,  put  his  legs  over  a  low  railing  and 


WHO  SHALL  BE  HEIR?  159 

passed  into  his  neighbor's  house.  That  neighbor  was  an  Irish 
tailor  of  the  name  of  Pat  Maloney,  a  little  fellow  with  carroty 
whiskers  and  features  intensely  Hibernian. 

On  inquiring  into  the  cause  of  the  outcry,  Pompilard  learned 
that  Maloney  was  only  "  larruping  the  ould  woman  with  a  bit 
of  a  leather  strap,  yer  honor."  Mrs.  Maloney  excused  her 
husband,  protesting  that  he  was  the  best  fellow  in  the  world, 
except  when  he  had  been  drinking,  which  was  the  case  that 
day  ;  "  and  not  a  bad  excuse  for  it  there  was,  youi-  honor,  for  a 
band  of  Irish  patriots  had  landed  that  blessed  morning,  and 
Pat  had  only  helped  wilcom  them  dacently,  which  was  the 
cause  of  his  taking  a  drap  too  much." 

With  an  air  of  deference  that  he  might  have  practised 
towards  a  gi-and-duchess,  Pompilard  begged  pardon  for  his 
intrusion,  and  passed  out,  leaving  poor  Pat  and  his  wife 
stunned  by  the  imposing  vision. 

No  sooner  had  Pompilard  resumed  his  romance,  than  the 
dulcet  strains  of  a  hand-organ  under  the  opposite  window  so- 
licited his  ear.  Pompilard  was  a  patron  of  hand-organs  ;  he 
had  a  theory  that  they  encouraged  a  taste  for  music  among  the 
humbler  classes.  The  present  organ  was  rich-toned,  and  was 
giving  forth  the  then  popular  and  always  charming  melody  of 
"  Love  Not."  Pompilard  grew  sentimental,  and  put  his  hand 
in  his  pocket  for  a  quarter  of  a  dollar ;  but  no  quarter  respond- 
ed to  the  touch  of  his  fingers.     He  called  his  wife. 

Enter  a  small  middle-aged  lady,  dressed  in  white  muslin 
over  a  blue  under-robe,  with  ribbons  streaming  in  all  direc- 
tions. She  was  followed  by  Antoinette,  or  Netty,  as  she  was 
generally  called,  a  little  elfish-looking  maiden,  six  or  seven 
years  old,  with  her  hands  thrust  jauntily  into  the  pockets  of 
her  apron,  and  her  bright  beady  eyes  glancing  about  as  if  in 
search  of  mischief. 

"  Lend  me  a  quai-ter,  my  dear,  for  the  organ-man,"  said 
Pompilard. 

"  Ah  !  there  you  have  me  at  a  disadvantage,  husband,"  said 
the  lady.  "  Do  you  know  I  don't  believe  ten  cents  could  be 
raised  in  the  whole  house  ? " 

And  the  lady  laughed,  as  if  she  regarded  the  circumstance 
as  an  excellent  joke.     The  child,  taking  her  cue  from  the 


1 60  PECULIAR. 

mother,  screamed  with  delight.  Then,  imitating  the  sound  of  a 
bmnble-bee,  she  made  her  father  start  up,  afraid  he  was  going 
to  be  stung.  This  put  the  cUmax  to  her  men'iment,  and  she 
thi*ew  herself  on  the  sofa  in  a  paroxysm. 

"  What  a  little  devil  it  is  ! "  exclaimed  Pompilard,  proudly 
smiling  on  his  offspring.  "  Is  it  possible  that  no  one  in  the 
house  has  so  much  as  a  quarter  of  a  dollar  ?  Where  are  the 
girls  ?     Girls  !  " 

His  call  brought  doTMi  from  up-stairs  his  two  eldest,  children 
of  his  fii*st  wife,  —  one,  Angelica  Ireton,  a  widow,  whose  per- 
plexity was  how  to  prevent  herself  from  becoming  fat,  for 
she  was  ah-eady  fair  and  forty ;  the  other,  Mehssa  (by  Netty 
nicknamed  Molasses),  a  sentimentalist  of  twenty-five,  affianced, 
since  her  father's  last  financial  downfall,  to  Mr.  Cecil  Purling, 
a  gentleman  five  years  her  senior,  who  labored  under  the  de- 
lusion that  he  was  born  to  be  an  author,  and  who  kept  on 
ruining  publishers  by  writing  the  most  ingeniously  unsalable 
books.  Angelica  had  a  son  with  the  army  in  Mexico,  and  two 
little  girls,  Julia  and  Mary,  older  than  Netty,  but  over  whom 
she  exercised  absolute  authority  by  keeping  them  constantly 
informed  that  she  was  their  aunt. 

Angelica  was  found  to  have  in  her  pui-se  the  sum  required 
for  the  organ-man.  Pompilard  took  it,  and  started  for  the 
door,  when  a  prolonged  feline  cry  made  him  suppose  he  had 
trodden  on  the  kitten.  "  Poor  Puss  ! "  he  exclaimed  ;  ''  where 
the  deuce  are  you  ?  "  He  looked  under  the  sofa,  and  an  out- 
burst of  impish  laughter  told  him  he  had  been  tricked  a  second 
time  by  his  little  girl. 

"That  child  will  be  kidnapped  yet  by  the  circus  people," 
said  Pompilard,  complacently.  "  Where  did  she  leai'n  all  these 
accomplishments  ?  " 

"  Of  the  childi-en  in  the  next  house,  I  believe,"  said  ISlrs. 
Pompilard ;  "  or  else  of  the  sailors  on  the  river,  for  she  is  con- 
stantly at  the  water-side  watching  the  vessels,  and  trying  to 
make  pictures  of  them." 

Pompilard  went  to  the  door,  paid  the  organ-grinder,  and  re- 
entered the  room  with  an  "  Extra  "  which  the  gi-ateful  itinerant 
had  presented  to  him.  * 

"  What  have  we  here  ?  "  said  Pompilard  ;  and  he  read  from 


WHO  SHALL   BE   HEIR?  161 

the  paper  the  announcement  of  a  terrible  steamboat  accident, 
which  had  occurred  on  the  night  of  the  Wednesday  previous, 
on  the  Mississippi. 

"  This  is  very  surprising,  —  very  surprising  indeed,"  he  ex- 
claimed.    "  My  dear,  it  appears  from  —  " 

The  noise  of  a  dog  yelping,  as  if  his  leg  had  been  suddenly 
broken  by  a  stone,  here  interrupted  him.  He  rushed  to  the 
^\'indow.     No  dog  was  there. 

"  Will  that  little  goblin  never  be  out  of  mischief?  Take 
her  away,  Molasses,"  said  the  secretly  delighted  father.  Then, 
resuming  his  seat,  he  continued  :  "  It  appears  from  this  account, 
vriie,  that  among  the  passengers  killed  by  this  great  steamboat 
explosion  were  your  niece  Leonora  Berwick,  her  husband,  and 
child.     Did  she  have  more  than  one  child  ?  " 

"  Not  that  I  know  of,"  said  INIrs.  Pompilard.  "  Is  poor  Leo- 
nora blown  up  ?  That  is  very  hard  indeed.  But  I  never  set 
eyes  on  her,  —  though  I  have  her  photograph,  —  and  I  shall  not 
pretend  to  grieve  for  one  I  never  saw.  My  poor  brother  could 
never  get  over  our  elopement,  you  wicked  Albert." 

"  Your  poor  brother  thought  I  was  cheating  you,  when  I  said 
I  loved  you  to  distraction.  Now  put  your  hand  on  your  heart, 
Mrs.  Pompilard,  and  say,  if  you  can,  that  I  have  n't  proved 
every  day  of  my  life  that  I  fell  short  of  the  truth  in  my  pro- 
fessions." 

"  I  sha'n't  complain,"  replied  the  lady,  smiling ;  "  but  we 
were  shockingly  imprudent,  both  of  us  ;  and  I  tell  Netty  I 
shall  disown  her  if  she  ever  elopes." 

"  Of  course  Netty  must  n't  take  our  example  as  a  precedent." 

Buoyed  up  on  her  husband's  ever-sanguine  and  cheei-ful  tem- 
perament, j\Irs.  Pompilard  had  looked  upon  their  fluctuations 
from  wealth  to  poverty  as  so  many  piquant  variations  in  their 
way  of  life.  This  moving  into  a  little  mean  house  in  Harlem, 
—  what  was  it,  after  all,  but  playing  poor  ?  It  would  be  only 
temporary,  and  was  a  very  good  joke  while  it  lasted.  Albert 
would  soon  have  his  palace  on  tlie  Fifth  Avenue  once  more. 
There  was  no  doubt  of  it. 

And  so  Mrs.  Pompilard  made  the  best  of  the  present  mo- 
ment. Her  step-daughters  (she  was  the  junior  of  one  of 
them)  used  to  treat  her  as  they  might  a  spoiled  child,  taking 


162  PECULIAR. 

her  in  their  laps,  and  petting  her,  and  often  rocking  her  to 
sleep. 

The  news  Pompilard  had  been  reading  suggested  to  him  a 
not  improbable  contingency,  but  he  exliibited  the  calmness  of 
the  experienced  gambler  in  considering  it. 

"  My  dear,"  said  he,  "  if  this  news  is  true,  it  is  not  out  of  the 
range  of  possibilities  that  the  extinction  of  this  Berwick  family 
may  leave  you  the  inheritrix  of  a  million  of  dollars." 

"That  would  be  quite  delightful,"  exckiimed  Mrs.  Pompi- 
lard ;  "  for  then  that  poor  pining  Purling  could  many  Melissa 
at  once.  Not  that  I  wish  my  niece  and  her  husband  any  harm. 
Ono!" 

"  Yes,  it  would  n't  be  an  ill  \vind  for  Purling  and  Melissa, 
that 's  a  fact,"  said  Pompilard.  "  The  chances  stand  thus  :  If 
the  mother  died  the  last  of  the  tlu'ee,  the  property  comes  to  you 
as  her  nearest  heir.  If  the  child  died  last,  at  least  half,  and 
perhaps  all  the  property,  must  come  to  you.  If  the  child  died 
first  (which  is  most  probable),  and  then  the  father  and  the 
mother,  or  the  mother  and  the  father,  still  the  property  comes 
to  you.  If  the  father  died  first,  then  the  child,  and  then  the 
mother,  the  property  comes  to  you.  But  if  the  mother  died 
fii'st,  then  the  child,  and  then  the  father,  the  money  all  goes  to 
jVIrs.  Charlton,  by  virtue  of  her  kinsliip  as  aunt  and  nearest 
relative  to  Mr.  Berwick.  So  you  see  the  chances  are  largely 
in  your  favor.  If  the  report  is  true  that  the  family  are  all  lost, 
I  would  bet  fifteen  thousand  to  five  that  you  inherit  the  prop- 
erty. I  shall  go  to  the  city  to-morrow,  and  perhaps  by  that 
time  we  shall  have  further  particulars." 

Pompilard  then  plunged  anew  into  his  novel,  and  the  wife 
returned  to  her  task  of  trirmning  a  bonnet,  intended  as  a  wed- 
ding present  to  a  girl  who  had  once  been  in  her  service,  and 
who  was  now  to  occupy  one  of  the  houses  opposite. 

The  next  day,  Pompilard,  fresh,  juvenile,  and  debonair,  de- 
scended from  the  Harlem  cai-s  at  Chambers  Street,  and  strolled 
down  Broadway,  swinging  his  cane,  and  humming  the  Druidical 
chorus  from  Norma.  Encountering  Charlton  walking  in  the 
same  direction,  he  joined  him  ^vith  a  "  Good  morning."  Chai-lton 
turned,  and,  seeing  Pompilard  jubilant,  drew  from  the  spectacle 
an  augury  unfavorable  to  his  own  prospects.  "  Has  the  old 
fellow  had  private  advices  ?  "  thought  he. 


WHO   SHALL   BE   HEIR?  163 

Pompilard  spoke  of  the  opera,  of  Mai-etzek,  the  Dusseldorf 
gallery,  and  the  Rochester  rappings.  At  length  Charlton  in- 
terposed with  an  allusion  to  the  great  steamboat  disaster.  Pom- 
pilard seemed  to  dodge  the  subject ;  and  this  drove  Charlton  to 
the  dii-ect  interrogatory,  "  Have  you  had  any  information  in 
addition  to  what  the  newspapers  give  ?  " 

"  O  nothing,  —  that  is,  nothing  of  consequence,"  said  Pompi- 
lard.    "  Did  you  hear  Grisi  last  night  ?  " 

"It  appears,"  resumed  Charlton,  "that  your  wife's  niece, 
Mrs.  Berwick,  was  killed  outright,  that  the  child  was  subse- 
quently di-owned,  and  that  Mr.  Berwick  survived  till  the  next 
day  at  noon." 

"  Nothing  more  likely  !  "  replied  Pompilard,  who  had  not  yet 
seen  the  morning  papei*s. 

"  Do  you  know  any  of  the  survivors  ?  "  asked  Charlton, 

"  I  have  n't  examined  the  list  yet,"  said  Pompilai'd. 

And  they  parted  at  the  head  of  Fulton  Street. 

Chai'lton  built  his  hopes  lai'gely  on  the  fact  that  Colonel 
Delancy  Hyde  was  among  the  survivors.  If,  fortunately,  the 
Colonel's  memory  should  serve  him  the  right  way,  he  might 
turn  out  a  very  useful  witness.  At  any  rate,  he  (Charlton) 
would  communicate  with  him  by  letter  forthwith. 

In  one  of  the  reports  in  the  Memphis  Avalanche,  telegraphed 
to  the  morning  papers,  was  the  following  extract :  — 

"  Judge  Onslow,  late  of  Mississippi,  and  his  son  saved  them- 
selves by  swimming.  Among  the  bodies  they  identiiSed  was 
that  of  Mrs.  Berwick  of  New  York,  wounded  in  the  head. 
From  the  nature  of  the  wound,  her  death  must  have  been  in- 
stantaneous. Her  husband  was  badly  scalded,  and,  on  recog- 
nizing the  body  of  his  wife,  and  learning  that  his  child  was 
among  the  drowned,  he  became  deeply  agitated.  He  lingered 
till  the  next  day  at  noon.  The  child  had  been  in  the  keeping 
of  a  mulatto  nurse.  Mr.  Burgess  of  St.  Louis,  who  was  saved, 
saw  them  both  go  overboard.  It  appears,  however,  that  the 
nurse,  with  her  charge  in  her  arms,  was  seen  holding  on  to  a 
life-preserving  stool ;  but  they  were  both  disowned,  though 
every  eflfort  was  made  by  Colonel  Hyde,  aided  by  Mr.  Quattles 
of  South  Carolina,  to  save  them. 

"  We  regret  to  learn  that  Colonel  Hyde  is  a  large  loser  in 
Blaves.     One  of  these,  a  vahiable  negro,  named  Peek,  is  prob- 


164  PECULIAR. 

ably  drowTied,  as  he  was  handcuffed  to  prevent  his  escape. 
The  other  slaves  may  have  perished,  or  may  have  made  tracks 
for  the  underground  raih'oad  to  Canada.  Tlie  report  that  Mr.- 
Vance  of  New  Orleans  was  lost  proves  to  be  untrue.  The 
night  was  dark,  though  not  cloudy.  The  river  is  very  deep, 
and  the  current  rapid  at  the  place  of  the  explosion  (a  few 
miles  above  Helena),  and  it  is  feared  that  many  persons  have 
been  di'owned  whose  bodies  it  will  be  impossible  to  recover." 

Pompilai'd  read  this  account,  and  felt  a  million  of  dollars 
slipping  away  from  his  grasp.  But  not  a  muscle  of  his  face 
betrayed  emotion.  Impenetrable  fatalist,  he  stiU  had  faith  in 
the  culmination  of  his  star. 

"  We  must  wait  for  further  particulars,"  thought  Pompilard  ; 
"  there  is  hope  still  "  ;  and,  stopping  at  a  stall  to  buy  the  new 
novel  of  "  Monte  Cristo  "  by  Dumas,  he  made  his  way  to  the 
cars,  and  returned  to  Hai'lem. 

Weeks  glided  by.  IMi's.  Charlton  passed  away  on  the  day 
she  had  predicted,  and  Toussaint,  after  seeing  her  remains 
deposited  at  Greenwood,  gave  away  in  charity  the  thousand 
dollars  which  she  had  extorted  for  him  from  her  husband. 

Melissa  Pompilai'd  began  to  feai-  that  the  marriage-day 
would  never  come  round.  Cecil  Purling,  her  betrothed,  had 
made  a  descent  on  a  young  publisher,  just  starting  in  business, 
and  had  induced  him  to  put  forth  a  volume  of  "  playful "  essays, 
entitled  "  Skimmings  and  Skippings."  The  result  was  financial 
ruin  to  the  publisher,  and  his  rapid  retreat  back  to  the  clerk- 
ship from  which  he  had  emerged. 

But  Purling  was  indomitable.  He  began  forthwith  to  plan 
another  publication,  and  to  look  round  for  another  victim ; 
comforting  Melissa  with  the  assurance  that,  though  the  critics 
were  now  in  a  league  to  keep  him  in  obscurity,  he  should  make 
his  mark  some  day,  when  all  his  past  works  would  turn  out  the 
most  profitable  investments  he  could  possibly  have  found. 

To  whom  should  the  Aylesford-Berwick  property  descend  ? 
That  was  now  a  question  of  moment,  both  in  legal  and  financial 
circles.  Pompilai'd  read  novels,  made  love  to  liis  wife,  and 
romped  ^^'ith  his  daughters  and  grandchildren.  Charlton 
groaned  and  grew  thin  under  the  homble  state  of  suspense 
in  which  the  lawyers  kept  him.     ^ 


THE  VENDUE.  1G5 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

THE  VENDUE. 

"  A  queen  on  a  acafifold  is  not  so  pitiful  a  sight  as  a  woman  on  the  auction-block."  — 
Charles  Sumner. 

"  Slavery  gratifies  at  once  the  love  of  power,  the  love  of  money,  and  the  love  of  ease  •,  it 
finds  a  victim  for  anger  who  cannot  smite  back  his  oppressor,  and  it  offers  to  all,  without 
measure,  the  seductive  privileges  which  the  Mormon  gobpel  reserves  for  the  true  believers 
on  earth,  and  the  Bible  of  Mahomet  only  dares  promise  to  the  saints  in  heaven."  —  O.  TV. 
Holmes. 

ABOUT  a  month  after  the  explosion  of  the  Pontiae,  a  select 
company  were  assembled,  one  beautiful  morning  in  June, 
under  a  stately  paliuetto-tree  in  front  of  the  auction  store  of 
Messi-s.  Ripper  &  Co.  in  New  Orleans,  and  on  the  shady  side 
of  the  street.  There  was  to  be  a  sale  of  prime  slaves  that  day. 
A  chair  with  a  table  before  it,  flanked  on  either  side  by  a  bale 
of  cotton,  afforded  accommodations  for  the  ceremony.  Mr. 
Ripper,  the  auctioneer,  was  a  young  man,  rather  handsome, 
and  well  dressed,  but  with  that  flushed  complexion  and  telltale 
expression  of  the  eyes  which  a  habit  of  dissipation  generally 
imparts  to  its  victims. 

The  company  numbered  some  fifty.  They  were  lounging 
about  in  groups,  and  were  nearly  all  of  them  smoking  cigars. 
Some  were  attired  in  thin  grass-cloth  coats  and  pantaloons, 
some  in  the  perpetual  black  broadcloth  to  which  Americans 
adhere  so  pertinaciously,  even  when  the  thermometer  is  at 
ninety.  There  was  but  one  woman  present ;  and  she  was  a 
strong-minded  widow,  a  Mrs.  Barkdale,  who  by  the  death  of 
her  husband  had  come  into  the  possession  of  a  plantation,  and 
now,  instead  of  sending  her  overseer,  had  come  herself,  to  bid 
off  a  likely  field-hand. 

The  negroes  to  be  sold,  about  a  dozen  in  number,  were  in 
the  warehouse.  Mr.  Ripper  paced  the  sidewalk,  looking  now 
and  then  impatiently  at  his  watch.  The  sale  was  to  begin  at. 
ten.  Suddenly  a  tall,  angular,  ill-formed  man,  dressed  in  a 
light  homespun  suit,  came  up  to  Ripper  and  drew  him  aside  to 


1(36  PECULIAR. 

where  a  young  man,  dressed  in  black  and  weai-ing  a  white 
neckcloth,  stood  bracing  his  back  up  against  a  tree.  His 
swarthy  complexion,  dark  eyes,  and  long  nose  made  it  doubtful 
whether  the  Caucasian,  the  Jewish,  or  the  Al'rican  blood  pre- 
dominated m  his  veins.  A  general  languor  and  unsteadiness 
of  body  showed  that  he  had  been  indulging  in  the  "  ardent." 

To  this  individual  the  tall  man  led  up  the  auctioneer,  and 
said ;  "  The  Reverend  Quattles,  Mr.  Ripper ;  IVIr.  Ripper, 
the  Reverend  Quattles.  Gemmlemen,  yer  both  know  me. 
I'm  Delancy  Hyde,  —  Virginia-born,  be  Gawd.  ('Scuze  me. 
Reverend  sir.)  None  of  your  Puritan  scum  !  My  ahnces'tor, 
Delancy  Hyde,  kum  over  with  Pocahontas  and  John  Smith ; 
my  gra'filher  owned  more  niggers  nor  'ary  other  man  in  the 
county  ;  my  father  was  cheated  and  broke  up  by  a  damned 
Yankee  judge,  sir ;  that 's  why  the  family  acres  ain't  mine." 

"  I  've  but  five  minutes  more,"  interposed  Mr.  Ripper,  impa- 
tiently. 

"  Wall,  sir,"  continued  the  Colonel,  "  this  gemmleman,  as  I 
war  teUin'  yer,  is  the  Reverend  Quattles  of  Alabamy." 

The  Reverend  Quattles  bowed,  and,  with  fishy  eyes  and  a 
maudlin  smile,  put  his  hand  on  his  heart. 

"  The  little  nig  I  've  brung  yer  ter  sell,  Mr.  Ripper,  b'longs 
ter  the  Reverend  Quattles's  brother,  a  high-tone  gemmleman, 
who  lives  in  Mobile,  but  has  been  unfortnit  in  business,  and  has 
had  ter  sell  off  his  niggers.  An'  as  I  was  goin'  ter  Noo  Orleenz, 
he  puts  this  httle  colored  gal  in  my  hands  ter  sell.  The  Rev- 
erend Quattles  wanted  ter  buy  her,  but  was  too  poor.  He  then 
said  he  'd  go  with  me  ter  see  she  mowt  fall  inter  the  right 
hahnds.  In  puttin'  her  up,  yer  must  say  't  wa^  a  gi-eat  'fliction, 
and  all  that,  ter  part  with  her ;  that  the  Reverend  Quattles, 
ruther  nor  see  her  fall  inter  the  wrong  hands,  would  seU  his 
library,  and  so  on ;  that  she 's  the  child  of  a  quadroon  as  has 
been  in  the  family  all  her  life,  and  as  is  a  sort  of  half-sister  of 
the  Reverend  Quattles." 

"  O  yes  !  I  understand  all  that  game,"  said  Ripper,  knock- 
ing with  his  little  finger  the  ashes  from  his  cigar. 

The  Colonel,  in  an  aside  to  the  auctioneer,  now  remarked  : 
"  The  Reverend  Quattles,  in  tryin'  to  stiddy  his  narves  for  the 
scene,  has  tuk  too  stiff  a  horn,  yer  see." 


THE  VENDUE.  167 

"  Yes  ;  take  him  where  he  can  sleep  it  off.  It 's  time  for  the 
sale  to  begin.  Remember  your  lot  is  Number  12,  and  will  be 
struck  off  last." 

The  auctioneer  then  made  his  way  across  the  street,  jumped 
on  one  of  the  cotton-bales,  and  thence  into  the  chair  placed 
near  the  table. 

"  Come,  Quattles,"  said  Hyde,  "  we  Ve  time  for  another  horn 
afore  we're  wanted." 

"  No  yer  don't,  Kunnle  !  "  exclaimed  Quattles,  throwing  off 
that  worthy's  arm  from  his  shoulder.  "  I  tell  yer  this  is  too 
cussed  mean  a  business  for  any  white  man ;  I  tell  yer  I  won't 
give  inter  it." 

"  Hush !     Don't  bawl  so,"  pleaded  the  Colonel. 

"  I  will  bawl.  Yer  think  yer  've  got  me  so  drunk  I  hain't 
no  conscience  left.  But  I  tell  yer,  I  woan't  give  in.  I  tell 
yer,  I  '11   xpose  the  hull  trick !  " 

"  Hush  !  hush  !  "  said  the  Colonel,  patting  him  as  he  might  a 
restive  beast.  "  Ai-ter  the  sale 's  over,  we  '11  have  a  fust-rate 
dinner  all  by  ou'selves  at  the  St.  Charles.  Terrapin  soup  and 
pompinoe  !  Champagne  and  juleps  !  Ice-cream  and  jelly !  A 
reg'lar  blow-out !     Think  of  that,  Quattles  !     Think  of  that !  " 

"  Cuss  the  vittles  !  O,  I  'm  a  poor,  mis'able,  used-up,  good- 
for-northin'  creetur,  wuss  nor  a  nigger !  —  yes,  wuss  nor  a 
nigger ! "  said  Quattles,  bursting  into  maudlin  sobs  and  weeping. 
The  Colonel  walked  him  away  into  a  contiguous  drinking- 
saloon. 

"  Brandy-smashes  for  two,"  said  the  Colonel. 

The  decoctions  were  brewed,  and  the  tumblei-s  slid  along 
the  marble  counter,  with  the  despatch  of  a  man  who  takes 
pride  in  his  vocation.  They  were  as  quickly  emptied.  Quat- 
tles gulped  down  his  liquor  eagerly.  The  Colonel  then  hired 
a  room  containing  a  sofa,  and,  seeing  his  companion  safely 
bestowed  there,  made  his  own  way  back  to  the  auction. 

On  one  of  the  cotton-bales  stood  a  prime  article  called  a 
negro-wench.  This  was  Lot  Number  3.  She  was  clad  in  an 
old  faded  and  filthy  calico  dress  that  had  apparently  been 
made  for  a  girl  half  her  size.  A  small  bundle  containing  the 
rest  of  her  wardrobe  lay  at  her  feet.  Her  bare  arms,  neck, 
and  breasts  were  conspicuously  displayed,  and  her  knees  were 


1G8  riXULIAK. 

hardly  covei-ed  by  the  stinted  skirt.  Without  shame  she  stood 
there,  as  if  used  to  the  scene,  and  rather  flattered  by  the  glib 
commendations  of  the  auctioneer. 

"  Look  at  her,  gentlemen  !  '*  said  he.  "  All  her  pints  good. 
Fust-rate  stock  to  breed  from.  Only  twenty-three  yeai-s  old, 
and  has  had  five  children  already.  And  thar  's  no  reason 
why  she  should  n't  have  a  dozen  more.  I  'm  only  bid  eight 
hunderd  dollars  for  this  most  valubble  brood-wench.  Only 
eight  hunderd  dollai*s  for  this  superior  article.  Thank  you, 
sir  ;  you  've  an  eye  for  good  pints.  I  'm  offered  eight  hunderd 
and  twenty-five.  Only  eight  hunderd  and  twenty-five  for  this 
most  useful  hand.  Jest  look  at  her,  sir.  Limbs  straight ;  teeth 
all  sound ;  wool  thick,  though  she  has  had  five  children.  All 
livin',  too  ;  ain't  they,  Portia  ?  " 

"  Yes,  massa,  all  sole  ter  Massa  Wade  down  thar  in  Texas. 
He  'm  gwoin'  ter  raise  de  hull  lot." 

"  You  hear,  gentlemen.  Thar 's  nothin'  ^^icious  about  her. 
Makes  no  fuss  because  her  young  ones  are  carried  off.  Knows 
they  '11  be  taken  good  care  of.  A  good,  reasonable,  pleasant- 
tempered  wench  as  ever  lived.  And  now  I  'm  offered  only 
eight  hunderd  and  —  Did  I  hear  fifty?  Thank  you,  sir. 
Eight  hunderd  and  fifty  dollars  is  bid.  Is  thar  nary  a  man 
hai-  that  knows  the  valoo  of  a  prime  article  like  this  ?  Eight 
hunderd  and  fifty  dollars.  Goin'  for  eight  hunderd  and  fifty  ! 
Goin' !  Gone  !  For  eight  hunderd  and  fifty  dollars.  Gen- 
tlemen, you  must  be  calculating  on  the  opening  of  the  slave- 
trade,  if  you  '11  stand  by  and  see  niggers  sacrificed  in  this  way. 
Pass  up  the  next  lot." 

The  next  ''  lot "  was  a  man,  a  sulky,  discontented-looking 
creature,  but  lai'ge,  erect,  and  with  shoulders  that  would  have 
made  his  fortune  as  a  hotel-porter.  La}dng  down  his  bundle, 
he  mounted  the  cotton-bale  with  a  weaiy,  desponding  air,  as 
if  he  had  begun  to  think  there  was  no  good  in  reserve  for  him, 
either  on  the  earth  or  in  the  heavens. 

"  Lot  Number  4  is  Ike,"  said  the  auctioneer.  "  A  fust-rate 
field-hand.  Will  hoe  more  cotton  in  three  hours  than  a  com- 
mon nigger  will  in  ten.  Ike  is  pious,  and  has  been  a  famous 
exhorter  among  the  niggers  ;  belongs  to  the  Baptist  church. 
You  all  know,  gentlemen,  the  advantage  of  piety  in  a  nigger. 


THE  VENDUE.  169" 

Ike's  piety  ought  to  add  tlm-ty  per  cent  to  liis  wutli.  I  'm 
offoi-ed  nine  hunderd  dollars  for  Ike.     Nine  hunderd  dolku^s  !  " 

Here  a  squinting,  hatchet-faced  fellow  in  a  broad-brimmed 
straw  hat,  who  had  been  making  quite  a  puddle  of  tobacco- 
juice  on  the  ground,  leaped  upon  the  bale,  and  lifted  the  slave's 
faded  baize  shirt  so  as  to  get  a  look  at  his  back.  Then,  putting 
liis  finger  on  the  side  of  liis  nose,  the  examiner  winked  at  Rip- 
per, and  jumped  down. 

''  Scored  ?  "  asked  an  anxious  inquirer. 

"  Scored  ?  AVall,  stranger,  he  's  been  scored,  then  put  under 
a  harrer,  then  paddled  an'  burnt.     A  hard  ticket  that." 

The  nine  hundred  dollar  bid  was  as  yet  in  the  imagination 
of  the  auctioneer.  But,  with  the  quick  penetration  of  his 
craft,  he  saw  the  strong-minded  widow  standing  on  tiptoe,  her 
face  eager  with  the  excitement  of  bidding,  and  her  words  only 
checked  by  the  desire  to  judge  from  the  amount  of  competition 
whether  the  article  were  a  desirable  one. 

'*  A  thousand  and  ten  !  Thank  you,  sir,  thank  you  ! "  said 
Ripper,  bo^^^ng  to  a  gentleman  he  had  seen  only  in  his  mind's 
eye.  Nobody  could  dispute  the  bid,  all  eyes  being  directed 
toward  the  auctioneer. 

"  A  thousand  and  twenty-five,"  continued  Ripper,  turning 
in  an  opposite  direction,  and  bowing  to  an  equally  imaginary 
bidder.  Then,  apparently  catching  the  eye  of  the  competing 
customer,  "  A  thousand  and  forty  ! "  he  exclaimed  ;  and  so,  see- 
sawing from  one  chimerical  gentleman  to  the  other,  he  carried 
the  sham  bidding  up  to  a  thousand  and  seventy-five. 

At  this  point  IMi'S.  Barkdale,  pale,  and  following  with  sway- 
ings  of  her  own  body  the  motions  of  the  auctioneer,  her  heart 
in  her  moutli  almost  depriving  her  of  speech,  waved  her  hand 
to  attract  his  attention,  and,  rising  on  tiptoe,  gasped  forth,  "  A 
thousand  and  eighty  ! " 

"  Thank  you,  madam,"  said  Ripper,  politely  touching  his  hat. 
Then,  apparently  catching  the  eye  of  his  imaginary  bidder  on 
the  right,  "  Monsieur  Dupre,"  he  said,  "  you  won't  allow  such 
a  bargain  to  slip  through  your  hands,  wall  you  ?  Voyez  !  Ou 
trourerez-vous  un  mieux  ?  Thank  you,  sir ;  thank  you  !  A 
thousand  and  ninety,  —  I  'm  offered  a  thousand  and  ninety  for 
this  superior  field-hand.  Goin',  —  goin'.  Thank  you,  madam. 
8 


170  PFXTLIAK. 

Eleven  hunderd  dollars  ;  only  eleven  hunderd  dollars  for  tin's 
most  valubble  piece  of  property.  I  assure  you,  gentlemen,  't  is 
not  often  you  've  such  a  chance.  Goin'  for  eleven  hunderd 
dollars  !  Are  you  all  done  ?  Eleven  hunderd  dollai'S.  Goin' ! 
Gone  !  You  were  too  late,  sir.  To  Mrs.  Barkdale  for  eleven 
hunderd  dollars." 

The  widow,  almost  ready  to  faint,  made  her  way  to  her 
carriage,  and  was  driven  off.  Some  of  tlie  company  shrugged 
their  shoulders,  while  others  uttered  a  low,  sigin'ficant  whistle. 
Ike,  who  maintained  his  dogged,  sulky  look,  picked  up  his 
bundle,  and  was  remanded  to  the  warehouse,  there  to  be  kept 
till  claimed. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,"  said  the  auctioneer,  ''  I  have  to  call  your 
attention  to  the  primest  fancy  article  that  it  has  ever  been 
my  good  fortin  to  put  under  the  hammer.  Lot  Number  5  is 
the  quadi'oon  gal,  Nelly.     Bring  lier  on." 

Here  a  negro  assistant  led  out,  with  his  hand  on  her  shoulder, 
a  giii  apparently  not  more  than  eighteen  years  of  age,  and 
helped  her  on  the  cotton-bale.  She  was  modestly  clad  in 
an  old  but  neatly-fitting  black  silk  gown,  and,  notwithstanding 
the  heat,  wore  round  her  shoulders  a  checked  woollen  shawl. 
Her  hair  was  straight.  Evidently  she  derived  her  blood  chiefly 
from  white  ancestors.  She  was  very  pretty ;  and  had  a  neat, 
compact  figure,  in  which  the  tendency  to  plumpness,  common 
among  the  quadroons,  was  not  yet  too  marked  for  grace. 

It  was  apparently  the  first  time  she  had  ever  been  put  up  for 
sale  ;  for  she  had  a  scared,  deprecator}--  look,  strangely  accom- 
panied with  a  smile  put  on  for  the  purpose  of  propitiating  some 
well-disposed  master,  if  such  there  might  be  among  tlie  crowd. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,"  said  Ripper,  "  here  is  Lot  Number  5. 
It  speaks  for  itself,  and  needs  no  puffin  from  me.  But  tliar  is 
a  little  story  connected  with  Nelly.  She  was  the  property  of 
]\Iiss  Pettigi-ew,  down  in  Plaquemine,  and  always  thought  she  'd 
be  free  as  soon  as  her  missis  died.  But  her  missis  fell  under 
conviction  jest  afore  her  death,  and  ordered  in  her  vnW.  that 
Nelly  should  be  sold,  and  the  proceeds  paid  over  to  the  fund 
for  the  support  of  indigent  young  men  studpn'  for  the  ministry. 
So,  gentlemen,  in  biddin'  lib'rally  for  this  superior  lot,  you  '11 
have  the  satisfa«tion  of  forruding  a  most-er  praiseworthy  and 
pious  objek." 


THE  VENDUE.  171 

"  Make  her  drop  her  shawl,"  said  a  gray-haired  man,  with  a 
blotched,  unwholesome  skin,  and  with  dirty  deposits  of  stale 
tobacco-juice  at  the  corners  of  liis  mouth. 

"  Certainly,  Mr.  Tibbs,"  said  Ripper,  pulling  off  the  girl's 
shawl  as  if  he  had  been  uncovering  a  sample  of  Sea-Island 
cotton. 

"  She  has  been  a  lady's  maid,  and  notliin'  else,  I  can  assure 
you,  gentlemen.  Small  hands  and  feet,  yer  see.  Look  at  that 
neck  and  them  shoulders  !  Her  missis  has  kept  her  very  strict ; 
and  the  executor,  by  whose  order  she  is  sold,  warrants  you, 
gentlemen,  she  has  never  been  enceinte.  A  very  nice,  good- 
natured,  correct,  and  capable  gal.  Will  never  give  her  owner 
any  trouble,  and  will  oUerz  do  her  best  to  please.  Shall  I  start 
her  at  a  thousand  dollars?" 

Here  Mr.  Tibbs  and  two  other  men  jumped  on  the  bale,  and 
began  to  give  a  closer  examination  to  the  article.  One  pinclied 
the  flesh  of  its  smooth  and  well-rounded  shoulders.  Anotlier 
stretched  its  lips  apart  so  as  to  get  a  sight  of  its  teeth.  ]VIr. 
Tibbs  pulled  at  the  bosom  of  its  dress  in  order  to  draw  cer- 
tain physiological  conclusions  as  to  the  truth  of  the  auctioneer's 
warranty. 

"  Please  don't,"  expostulated  the  girl,  putting  away  his  hand, 
and  with  her  scared  look  trymg  hard  to  smile,  but  showing 
in  the  act  a  set  of  teeth  that  at  once  added  twenty  per  cent 
to  her  value  in  the  estimation  of  the  beholder. 

"  You  see  her,  gentlemen,"  said  Ripper.     "  She 's  just  what 
she  appears  to  be.     No  sham  about   her.     No  paddin'.     All 
wholesome  flesh  and  blood.     What  shall  I  have  for  Nelly  ?  " 
"A  thousand  dollars,"  said  Tibbs. 

"You   hear  the  bid,  gentlemen.     I'm  oflfered  a  thousand 
dollars  for  this  very  superior  article.    Only  a  thousand  dollars." 
«  Eleven  hundred,"  said  Jarvey,  the  well-known  keeper  of  a 
gambHng-saloon. 

Tibbs  glanced  angi-ily  at  the  audacious  competitor,  then 
nodded  to  the  auctioneer. 

"  Eleven  hundred  and  fifty  is  what  I  m  offered  for  Lot 
Number  5.  Gentlemen,  bar  in  mind,,  that  you  air  serviu'  a 
pious  cause  in  helpin'  me  to  git  the  full  valoo  of  this  most-er 
excellent  article.     Remember  the  proceeds  go  to  edicate  in- 


172  PKCL'LIAR. 

digent  young  men  for  tlie  ministry.  ]Mr.  Jarvey,  can't  you  do 
su'thin'  for  the  church  ? " 

"  Twelve  hundred,"  said  Jarvey. 

"  Twelve  fifty,"  exclaimed  Tibbs,  abruptly,  in  a  tone  sharp 
with  exasperation  and  malevolence. 

Nelly,  seeing  that  the  bidding  was  confined  to  these  two, 
looked  from  the  one  to  the  other  with  an  expression  of  deepest 
solicitude,  as  if  scanning  their  countenances  for  some  way  of 
hope.  Alas !  there  was  not  much  to  choose.  To  Jarvey,  as 
the  less  ill-favored,  she  evidently  inclined ;  but  Tibbs  had 
plainly  made  up  his  mind  to  "  go  his  pile  "  on  the  purchase, 
and  the  article  was  finally  knocked  down  to  him  for  fifteen 
hundred  dollars. 

'•  You  owt  to  be  proud  to  bring  sich  a  price  as  that,  my  gal," 
said  Eipper,  in  a  tone  of  congi-atidation.  Nelly  made  a  piteous, 
frightened  attempt  at  a  smile,  then  bui*st  into  tears,  and  got 
down  from  the  bale,  stumbling  in  her  confusion  so  as  to  fall 
on  her  hands  to  the  ground,  much  to  the  amusement  of  the 
spectators. 

The  lots  from  six  to  eleven  inclusive  did  not  excite  much 
competition.  They  were  mostly  field-hands,  coarse  and  stolid 
in  feature,  and  showing  a  cerebral  development  of  the  most 
rudimental  kind.  They  brought  prices  ranging  from  seven 
hundred  to  nine  hundred  dollars. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,"  said  Ripper,  "  I  have  one  little  fancy 
article  to  offer  you,  and  then  the  sale  will  be  closed.  Bring  on 
Number  12." 

The  colored  assistant  here  issued  from  the  warehouse  and 
crossed  the  street,  bearing  a  little  quadroon  girl  and  her  bundle 
in  his  arms.  Simultaneously  a  new  and  elegant  barouche,  drawn 
by  two  sleek  horses,  and  having  two  blacks  in  livery  on  the 
driver's  box,  stopped  in  the  rear  of  the  crowd.  The  occupant 
got  out,  and  strolled  toward  the  stand.  He  was  a  middle- 
aged  man,  with  well-formed  features,  a  smooth,  florid  com- 
plexion, and  a  figure  inclining  to  portliness.  Apparently  a 
gentleman,  were  it  not  for  that  imperious,  aggressive  air,  which 
the  habit  of  domineering  from  infancy  over  slaves  generally 
imparts.  He  carried  a  riding-whip,  with  which  he  carelessly 
switched  his  legs. 


THE  VENDUE.  173 

As  he  drew  near  the  stand,  the  auctioneer's  assistant  phiced 
on  the  cotton-bale  the  little  quadroon  girl.  She  was  almost  an 
infant,  evidently  not  three  years  old,  with^very  black  hair  and 
eyebrows,  though  her  eyes  did  not  harmonize  with  the  hue. 
She  wtis  naked  even  to  her  feet,  with  the  exception  of  a  little 
chemise  that  did  not  reach  to  her  thighs.  Her  figure  promised 
grace  and  health  for  the  future.  In  the  shape  of  her  features 
there  was  no  sign  of  the  African  intermixture  indicated  in  the 
hue  of  her  skin.  With  a  wondering,  anxious  look  she  regarded 
the  scene  before  her,  and  was  making  an  obvious  effort  to  keep 
from  crying. 

"Now  here  is  Number  12,  gentlemen,"  said  Ripper.  "Jest 
look  at  the  little  lady !  Thar  she  is.  Fust-rate  stock.  Look 
at  her  hands  and  feet.  Belonged  to  the  Quattles  family  of 
INIobile,  and  I  'm  charged  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Quattles  to  knock  her 
down  to  himself  (though  he  can't  afford  to  buy  her),  rather 
than  have  her  go  into  the  wrong  hands.  She  's  the  child  of 
his  half-sister,  yer  see,  gentlemen.  What  am  I  offered  for  this 
Little  lady  ? " 

"  A  hundred  dollars,"  said  a  voice  from  the  crowd. 

"  I  'm  offered  two  hunderd  dollars  for  this  little  tidbit,"  said 
Ripper,  pretending  to  have  misunderstood  the  bid. 

Colonel  Delancy  Hyde  stepped  forwai'd,  and,  taking  a  position 
at  the  side  of  the  auctioneer,  addressed  the  crowd :  "  I  know 
the  Quattles  family,  gentlemen.  It 's  an  unfort'nit  family,  and 
they  'd  never  have  put  this  yere  child  under  the  hammer  if  so 
be  they  had  n't  been  forced  right  up  ter  it  by  starn  necessity." 

"  Who  the  hell  are  you  ?  "  asked  a  tall,  lank,  defiant- looking 
gentleman,  who  seemed  to  be  disgusted  at  the  Colonel's  mter- 
fcrence. 

"  Who  am  I  ?  I  '11  tell  yer  who  am  I,"  cried  the  latter. 
"  I  'm  Colonel  Delancy  Hyde.  Anything  to  say  agin  that  ? 
Virginia-bom,  be  Gawd  !  My  father  was  Virginia-born  afore 
me,  and  his  father  afore  him,  and  they  owned  more  niggers 
nor  you  ever  looked  at.  Anything  to  say  agin  that,  yer  de- 
6i)isable  corn-cracker,  yer  !  " 

"  Hold  yer  tongue,  Colonel ;  you  're  drivm'  off  a  bidder," 
whispered  Ripper.  The  Colonel  collapsed  at  once,  quelling 
his  indignation. 


174  PKcriJAR. 

"I'm  offered  two  hunderd  dollars  for  Number  12,''  ex- 
claimed the  auctioneer,  putting  his  hand  on  the  little  girl's 
head.  "  If  there  's  any  good  judge  here  of  figger  an'  face,  he 
won't  see  this  article  sacrificed  for  such  a  trifle." 

"  Two  twenty-five,"  said  Tibbs. 

The  gentleman  who  had  descended  from  the  barouche  here 
drew  nearer,  and  examined  the  form  and  features  of  the  little 
girl  with  a  closer  scrutiny. 

"Two  fifty,"  said  he,  as  the  result  of  his  inspection. 

Tibbs,  iiTitated  by  the  competition,  made  his  bid  three  hun- 
dred. 

"  Four  hundred  !  "  said  the  man  -with  the  riding- whip. 

"  Five  hundred  !  "  retorted  Tibbs,  ejecting  the  words  with  a 
vicious  snort. 

"  Six  hundred,"  returned  his  competitor,  with  perfect  non- 
chalance. 

"  Seven  hundred  and  fifty,"  shrieked  Tibbs. 

"  A  thousand,"  said  the  other,  playing  with  his  whip. 

Tibbs  did  not  venture  further.  Mortified  and  angry,  he  turned 
away,  and  consoled  himself  with  an  enormous  cut  of  tobacco. 

"  Cash  takes  it,"  said  the  successful  bidder,  putting  his  finger 
to  his  li])S  by  way  of  caution  to  the  auctioneer,  and  then  beck- 
oning him  to  come  down.  Ripper  exchanged  a  few  words  with 
him  in  a  whisper,  and  told  his  assistant  to  put  the  little  girl  with 
her  bundle  into  the  barouche,  and  thi-ow  a  carriage-shawl  over 
her. 

As  the  barouche  di-ove  off,  Hyde  asked,  "  Who  is  he  ?  " 

''  Cash,"  replied  Eipper.  "  Did  n't  you  hear  ?  I  reckon 
you  see  more  of  overseers  than  of  planters.  You  've  done 
amazin'  well,  Colonel,  gittin'  such  a  price  fur  that  little  concern." 

"  Yes,"  said  Hyde ;  "  ISIi-.  Cash  is  a  high-tone  one,  that 's  a 
fak.     I  should  know  him  agin  'mong  a  thousand." 

The  company  dispersed,  the  auctioneer  settled  with  his  cus- 
tomers, and  Hyde  went  to  find  Quattles,  and  give  him  the 
jackal's  share  of  the  spoils. 

Let  us  follow  the  barouche.  Leaving  the  business  streets, 
it  rolled  on  till,  in  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  it  stopped  be- 
fore a  respectable  brick  house,  on  the  door  of  which  was  the 
sign,  "  Mrs.  Gentry's  Seminary  for  Young  Ladies."  Here  the 
gentleman  got  out  and  rang  the  bell. 


THE  VENDUE.  175 

"  Is  IVIi-s.  Gentry  at  home  ?  " 
"  Yes,  sir.  Walk  in.  I  will  take  your  card." 
He  was  ushered  into  a  parlor.  In  five  minutes  the  lady  ap- 
peared, —  a  tall,  erect  person  with  prominent  features,  a  sallow 
complexion,  and  dry  putFs  of  iron-gray  haii'  parted  over  her 
forehead.  A  Southern  judge's  daughter  and  a  widow,  Mrs. 
Gentry  kept  one  of  the  best  private  schools  in  the  city.  On 
seeing  the  name  of  Carberry  Ratcliff  on  the  card,  which  Tar- 
quin,  the  colored  servant,  had  handed  to  her,  she  went  with 
alacrity  to  her  mirror,  and,  after  a  little  pranking,  descended  to 
greet  lier  distinguished  visitor. 

"  Perhaps  you  have  heard  of  me  before,"  began  Mr.  Ratcliff. 

"  Often,  sir.  Be  seated,"  said  the  lady,  charmed  at  the  idea 
of  having  a  visit  from  the  lord  of  a  thousand  slaves. 

"I  have  in  my  barouche,  madam,  a  little  girl  I  wish  to 
leave  with  you.  She  is  my  property,  and  I  want  her  well 
taken  care  of.     Can  you  receive  her  ?  " 

Mrs.  Gentry  looked  significantly  at  the  gentleman,  and  he, 
as  if  anticipating  her  interrogatory,  replied  :  "  The  child  came 
into  my  possession  only  within  this  hour.  I  bought  her  quite 
accidentally  at  auction.  She  has  none  of  my  blood  in  her 
veins,  I  assure  you." 

"  Can  I  see  her  ?  " 

"  Yes  " ;  and,  walking  to  the  window,  Ratcliff  motioned  to 
one  of  his  negroes  to  bring  the  child  in.  This  was  done  ;  and 
the  infant  was  placed  on  the  floor  with  her  little  bundle  by  her 
side,  and  nude  as  she  was  when  exposed  on  the  auction-block. 

''  A  quadroon,  I  should  think,"  said  Mrs.  Gentry. 

"  I  really  don't  know  what  she  is,"  replied  Ratcliff.  "  I  want 
you,  however,  to  take  her  into  your  family,  and  raise  her  as 
carefully  as  if  you  knew  her  to  be  my  daughter.  You  shall  be 
liberally  paid  for  your  troul)le." 

'*  Is  she  to  know  that  she  is  a  slave  ?  " 

"  As  to  that  I  can  instruct  you  hereafter.  Meanwhile  keep 
the  fact  a  secret,  and  mention  my  name  to  no  one  in  connection 
with  her.  You  can  occasionally  send  me  a  daguerrotype, 
that  I  may  see  if  her  looks  fulfil  her  promise.  I  wish  you  to 
be  particular  about  her  music  and  French,  also  her  dancing. 
Let  her  understand  all  about  dress  too.     You  can  draw  upon 


176  PECULIAR. 

me  as  often  as  you  clioose  lor  the  umouiit  we  lix  upon  ;  and 
the  probabiHty  is,  I  shall  not  wish  to  see  her  till  she  reaches 
her  fifteenth  or  sixteenth  year.  I  rely  upon  you  to  keep  her 
strictly,  and,  as  she  grows  older,  to  guard  her  against  making 
acquaintances  with  any  of  the  other  sex.  Will  seven  hundred 
dollars  a  year  pay  you  for  your  trouble  ?  " 

"  Amply,  sir,"  said  the  gratified  lady.  "  I  will  do  my  best  to 
carry  out  your  wishes." 

""  You  need  not  ^^■rite  me  oftener  than  once  a  year,"  said 
Ratcliflf. 

''  Not  if  she  were  dangerously  ill  ?  " 

"  No ;  not  even  then.  You  could  take  better  care  of  her 
than  I;  and  all  my  interest  in  her  is  infutiiro." 

"'  I  think  I  understand,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Gentry  ;  "  and  I  will 
at  once  make  a  note  of  what  you  say." 

"  Here  is  payment  for  the  first  half-year  in  advance,"  said 
Katcliff. 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  returned  the  lady,  quite  overwhelmed 
at  the  great  planter's  munificence.  "■  Shall  I  write  you  a 
receipt  ?  " 

"  It  is  superfluous,  madam." 

All  this  while  the  child,  with  a  seriousness  strangely  at  vari- 
ance with  her  infantile  appearance,  sat  on  the  floor,  looking 
intently  first  at  the  woman,  then  at  the  man,  and  evidently 
striving  to  understand  what  they  w^ere  saying.  Ratcliff  now 
took  his  leave  ;  but  Mrs.  Gentry  called  him  back  before  he  had 
reached  the  door. 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,  there  is  something  I  wished  to  ask  you  ? 
What  was  it  ?    Oh  !    By  what  name  shall  we  call  the  child  ?  " 

"  Upon  my  w^ord,"  said  Ratcliff,  "  I  have  forgotten  the  name 
the  auctioneer  gave  her.  No  matter  !  Call  her  anything  yon 
please." 

"Well,  then,  Estelle  is  a  pretty  name.  Shall  I  call  her 
Estelle?" 

Ratcliff  started,  came  close  up  to  Mi-s.  Gentry,  looked  her 
steadily  in  the  face,  and  asked,  "  What  put  that  name  into  your 
head  ? " 

"  I  don't  know\     Probably  I  have  seen  it  in  some  novel." 

"Well,  don't  call  her  Estelle.     Call  her  Ellen  Murray." 


THE  VENDUE.  177 

"  I  will  remember." 

And  the  interview  closed. 

After  the  gentleman  had  gone,  the  child,  with  an  anxious 
and  grieved  expression  of  face,  tried  to  articulate  an  inquiry 
which  Mrs.  Gentry  found  it  difficult  to  understand.  At  last 
she  concluded  it  was  an  attempt  to  say,  "  Where 's  Hatty  ?  " 

Mrs.  Gentry  rang  the  bell,  and  it  was  answered  by  a  colored 
woman  of  large,  stately  figure,  whose  peculiar  hue  and  straight 
black  hair  showed  that  she  was  descended  from  some  tribe  dis- 
tinct from  ordinary  Africans. 

"  Where 's  the  chambermaid  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Gentry. 

"  O  missis,  dat  Deely  's  neber  on  de  spot  when  she 's  wanted. 
De  Lord  lub  us,  what  hab  we  here  ?  " 

"  A  new  inmate  of  the  family,  Esha.  I  've  taken  her  to 
bring  up." 

"  Some  rich  man's  lub-child,  I  reckon,  missis.  But  ain't 
she  a  little  darlin'  ?  "  And  Esha  took  her  up  from  the  floor, 
and  kissed  her.  The  child,  feeling  she  had  at  last  found  a 
friend,  threw  its  arms  about  the  woman's  neck,  and  broke  into 
a  low,  plaintive  sobbing,  as  if  her  little  heart  were  overfull  of 
long-suppressed  grief. 

"  Thar  !  thar ! "  said  Esha,  soothing  her ;  "  she  must  n't 
greeb  nebber  no  more.     Ole  Esha  will  lub  her  dearly !  " 

Mrs.  Gentry  opened  the  bundle,  and  was  surprised  to  see 
several  articles  of  clothing  of  a  rich  and  fine  texture,  all  neatly 
marked,  though  somewhat  soiled. 

"  There,  Esha,"  she  said,  "  take  the  poor  little  thing  and 
her  bundle  up-stairs,  and  dress  her.  To-morrow  I  '11  get  hen- 
some  new  clothes." 

Esha  obeyed,  and  the  child  thenceforth  clung  to  her  as  to 
a  mother.  To  the  servant's  surprise,  when  she  came  to  wash 
away  the  little  one's  tears,  the  skin  parted  with  its  tawny  hue, 
and  showed  white  and  fair.  On  examining  the  child's  hair,  too, 
it  was  found  to  be  dyed.  What  could  be  the  object  of  this  ? 
It  never  occurred  to  Esha  that  the  little  waif  might  be  a  slave, 
and  that  a  white  slave  was  not  so  salable  as  a  colored. 

Mrs.  Gentry  communicated  the  phenomenon  at  once  to  Mr. 
Ratcliff,  but  he  never  alluded  to  it  in  any  subsequent  letter  or 
conversation. 

8*  li 


178  PECULIAR. 

CHAPTER    XVII. 

SHALL   THERE   BE   A  WEDDING? 

"Ah  !  spare  your  idol ;  think  him  human  still ; 
Charms  he  may  have,  but  he  has  frailties  too  ! 
Dote  not  too  much,  nor  spoil  what  ye  admire." 

Young. 

THE  question  as  to  the  inheritance  of  the  Aylesford-Ber- 
Tvick  property  was  not  decided  Avithout  a  lawsuit.  The 
case  was  put  into  the  courts,  and  kept  there  many  months. 
The  heavy  legal  expenses  to  which  Charlton  was  subjected, 
and  his  reluctance  to  meet  them,  protracted  the  contest  by 
alienating  his  lawyers.  Pompilard  went  straight  to  the  point 
by  promising  his  counsel  a  fee  of  a  hundred  thousand  dollars 
in  the  event  of  success  ;  and  thus  he  enlisted  and  kept  active 
the  best  professional  aid.     Still  the  prospect  was  doubtful. 

But  even  the  Imvs  delay  must  finally  have  an  end.  The 
hour  of  the  final  settlement  of  the  great  case  by  the  ultimate 
court  of  appeal  had  come  at  last.  The  judges  had  entered  and 
taken  their  seats.  Charlton,  pale  and  haggard,  sat  by  the  side 
of  his  lawyer,  Detritcli.  Pompilard,  still  masking  his  age, 
entered  airy  as  a  maiden  just  stepping  forth  into  Broadway  in 
her  new  spring  bonnet.  He  wore  a  paletot  of  light  gray,  a 
choker  girt  by  a  sky-blue  silk  ribbon,  a  white  vest,  checked 
pantaloons,  and  silk  stockings  under  low-cut  patent-leather 
shoes.  Taking  a  seat  at  a  little  semicircular  table  near  his 
lawyers,  he  exchanged  repartees  with  them,  and  then  tran- 
quilly abided  his  fate.  Charlton  looked  with  anguish  on  the 
composure  of  his  antagonist. 

Just  as  the  case  was  expected  to  come  on,  one  of  the  judges 
was  found  to  have  left  a  certam  document  at  home.  They  all 
retired,  and  a  messenger  was  sent  for  the  important  paper. 
Hence  a  delay  of  an  hour.  Charlton  could  not  conceal  his 
agitation.  Pompilard  took  up  the  morning  journal,  and  read 
with  sorrow  of  the  death  of  an  old  friend. 

"  Poor  old  Toussaint !    I  see  he  has  left  us,"  said  Pompilard. 


SHALL   TJIKUE   BE   A   WEDDING?  179 

"  Yes,"  replied  Girard,  "  All-Saint  has  gone.     He  was  well 
named.    He  has  never  held  up  his  head  since  he  lost  his  wife." 
"  Toussaint  was  a  gentleman,  every  inch  of  him,"  said  Pom- 
pi  lard.     "  He  believed  in  the  elevation  of  the  black  man,  not 
by  that  process  of  absorption  or  amalgfimation  which  some  of 
our  noodles  recommend,  but  by  his  showing  in  liis  life  and 
character  that  a  negro  can  be  as  worthy  and  capable  of  free- 
dom as  a  white  man.     He  was  for  keeping  the  blacks  socially 
separate  from  the  whites,  though  one  before  the  law,  and  teach- 
ing them  to  be  content  with  the  color  God  had  given  them.     A 
brave  fellow  was  Toussaint.     I  remember  —  that  was  before 
your  day  —  when  the  yellow  fever  prevailed  here.     Maiden 
Lane  and  the  lower  parts  of  tlie  city  were  almost  deserted. 
But  Toussaint  used  to  cross  the  barricades  every  day  to  tend 
on  the  sick  and  dying,  and  carry  them  food  and  medicine." 
"  Did  you  know  him  well  ?  "  asked  Girard. 
"  Intimately,  these  thirty  years.    In  his  demeanor  exquisitely 
courteous  and  respectful,  there  was  never  the  slightest  tinge 
of  servility.     You  could  not  have  known  liim  as  I  did  mthout 
forgetting  his  color  and  feeling  honored  in  the  companionship 
of  a  man  so  thoroughly  generous,  pious,  and   sincere.     He 
would   sometimes  make  playful   allusions  to  his  color.      He 
seemed  much   amused  once   by  my  little  Netty,  who,  when 
she  was  about  three  years  old,  said  to  him,  after  looking  him 
steadily  in  the  face  for  some  time,  '  Toussaint,  do  you  live  in 
a  black  house  ? '     The  other  day,  knowing  he  was  quite  iU,  my 
wife  called  on  him,  and  while  by  his  bedside  asked  him  if  she 
should  close  a  window,  the  light  of  which  shone  full  in  his  face. 
*  0  non,  madam,'  he  replied,  '  car  alors  je  serai  trop  noii\' "  * 

Here  Pompilard  ceased,  and  looked  up.  There  was  a  stir 
in  the  court-room.  Their  Honors  had  re-entered  and  taken 
seats.  The  messenger  with  the  missing  paper  had  returned. 
The  presiding  judge,  after  a  long  and  tantalizing  preamble,  in 
the  course  of  which  Charlton  was  alternately  elevated  and  de- 
pressed, at  length  summed  up,  in  a  few  intelligible  words,  the 
final  decision  of  the  court.     Charlton  fainted. 

Pompilard's  lawyers  bent  down  their  heads,  as  if  certain 

*  "  0  no,  madam,  for  then  I  shall  be  too  black."    A  Life  of  Toussaint,  by 
Mrs.  George  Lee,  was  published  iu  Boston  some  years  since. 


180  PECULIAR. 

paper?  suddenly  demanded  their  close  scrutiny ;  but  Pompi- 
lard  himself  was  radiant.  Everybody  stared  at  him,  and 
handsomely  did  he  baffle  everybody  by  his  imperturbable  good 
humor.  It  is  not  every  da}*  that  one  has  an  opportunity  of 
seeing  how  a  fellow-being  is  affected  by  the  winning  or  the 
losing  of  a  million  of  dollars.  No  one  could  have  guessed 
from  Pompilard's  appearance  whether  he  had  won  or  lost. 
Unfortunately  he  had  lost ;  and  Charlton  had  reached  the 
acme  of  liis  hopes,  mortal  or  immortal,  —  lie  was  a  millionnaire. 

Pompilard  took  the  news  home  to  his  wife  in  the  little  old 
double  house  at  Harlem  ;  and  her  only  comment  was  :  "•  Poor 
dear  Melissa !  I  had  hoped  to  make  her  a  present  of  a  fur- 
nished cottage  on  the  North  River." 

The  conversation  was  immediately  turned  to  the  subject  of 
Toussaint,  and  one  would  have  thought,  hearing  these  strange 
foolish  people  talk,  that  the  old  negro's  exit  saddened  them  far 
more  than  the  loss  of  theii-  fortune.  Angelica,  Pompilard's 
widowed  daughter,  entered.  After  her  came  Netty,  the  elf, 
now  almost  a  young  lady.  She  carried  under  her  arm  a  port- 
folio, filled  with  such  draA^ngs  of  ships,  beaches,  and  rocks  as 
she  could  find  in  occasional  excursions  to  Long  Island,  mider 
the  patronage  of  Mrs.  Maloney,  the  tjiilor's  wife. 

Julia  and  Mary  Ireton,  daughters  of  Angelica,  came  in. 

"  Which  of  my  little  nieces  will  take  my  portfolio  up-stairs  ?  " 
asked  Netty. 

"  I  will,  aunt,"  said  the  dutiful  Maiy  ;  and  off  she  ran  vdth  it. 

"  Poor  Melissa !  TTe  shall  now  have  to  put  off  the  wed- 
ding," sighed  Angelica,  on  learning  the  result  of  the  lawsuit. 

"  No  such  thing  !     It  sha'n't  be  put  off!  "  said  Pompilard. 

Netty  threw  her  arms  round  the  old  man's  neck,  kissed  him, 
and  exclaimed :  ''  Bravo,  father  of  mine  !  Stick  to  that !  It 
is  n't  half  lively  enough  in  this  house.  We  want  a  few  more 
here  to  make  it  jolly.  Why  can't  we  have  such  high  times  as 
they  have  in  at  the  Maloneys'  ?  There  we  made  such  a  noise 
the  other  night  that  the  police  knocked  at  the  door." 

Maloney,  by  the  way,  be  it  recorded,  had,  under  the  pupilage 
of  Pompilard,  given  up  strong  drink  and  wife-beating,  and  risen 
to  be  a  tailor  of  some  fashionable  note.  Pompilard  had  found 
out  for  him  an  excellent  cutter,  —  had  kept  him  posted  in  re- 


SHALL  THERE  BE  A  WEDDING?         181 

gard  to  the  fashions,  —  and  then  had  gone  round  the  city  to  all 
the  clubs,  hotels,  and  opera-houses,  blowing  for  Maloney  with 
all  his  lungs.  He  did  n't  "  hesitate  to  declare  "  that  Maloney 
was  fhe  only  man  in  the  country  who  could  fit  you  decently  to 
pantaloons.  Pantaloons  were  his  specialite.  His  cutter  was 
a  born  genius,  —  "  an  Englishman,  sir,  whose  grandfather  used 
to  cut  for  the  famous  Brummel,  —  you  've  heard  of  Brum- 
mel  ?  "  The  results  of  all  this  persistent  blowing  were  aston- 
ishing. Soon  the  superstition  prevailed  in  Wall  Street  and 
along  the  Fifth  Avenue,  that  if  one  wanted  pantaloons  he  must 
go  to  Maloney.  Haynes  was  excellent  for  dress-coats  and 
sacks  ;  but  don't  let  him  hope  to  compete  with  Maloney  in 
pantaloons.  You  would  hear  young  fops  discussing  the  point 
with  intensest  earnestness  and  enthusiasm. 

How  many  fortunes  have  a  basis  quite  as  airy  and  unsub- 
stantial !  Soon  Maloney's  little  shop  was  crowded  with  custom- 
el's.  He  was  obliged  to  take  a  large  and  showy  establishment 
in  Broadway.  Here  prosperity  insisted  on  following  him. 
Wealth  began  to  flow  steadily  in.  He  found  himself  on  the 
plain,  high  road  to  fortune ;  and  by  whom  but  Pompilard  had 
lie  been  led  there  ?  The  consequence  was  pei-petual  gratitude 
on  the  tailor's  part,  evinced  in  daily  sending  home,  with  his 
own  marketing,  enough  for  the  other  half  of  the  house  ;  evinced 
also  in  the  determination  to  stick  to  Harlem  till  his  benefactor 
would  consent  to  leave. 

"WTiile  the  Pompilards  were  discussing  the  matter  of  the 
■wedding,  MeHssa  and  Purling  entered  from  a  walk.  Melissa 
carried  her  years  very  well ;  though  hope  deferred  had  written 
anxiety  on  her  amiable  features.  Purling  was  a  slim,  gen- 
tlemanly person,  always  affecting  good  spirits,  though  certain 
little  silvery  streaks  in  the  side-locks  over  his  ears  showed  that 
time  and  care  were  beginning  their  inevitable  work.  In 
aspiring  to  authorship  he  had  not  thought  it  essential  that  he 
should  consume  gin  like  Byron,  or  whiskey  like  Chai-les  Lamb, 
or  opium  like  De  Quincey.  But  if  there  be  an  avenging  deity 
presiding  over  the  wrongs  of  undone  publishers,  Purling  must 
be  doomed  to  some  unquiet  nights.  There  was  something 
sublime  in  the  pertinacity  with  which  he  kept  on  writing  after 
the  public  had  snubbed  him  so  repeatedly  by  utter  neglect ; 


182  PECULIAR. 

something  still  more  sublime  in  the  faith  which  led  publishers 
to  fall  into  the  nets  he  so  industriously  wove  for  them. 

The  result  of  the  lawsuit  being  made  known  to  the  new- 
comers, Melissa,  hiding  her  face,  at  once  left  the  room,  and  was 
followed  by  her  sisters  and  step-mother. 

Purling  keenly  felt  the  embarrassment  of  his  position. 
Pompilai'd  came  to  his  relief  "  We  have  concluded,  my  dear 
fellow,"  said  he,  "  not  to  put  off  the  wedding.  Don't  concern 
yourself  about  money-matters.  You  can  come  and  occupy 
Melissa's  room  with  her  till  I  get  on  my  legs  once  more.  I 
shall  go  to  work  in  earnest  now  this  lawsuit  is  off  my  hands." 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  Purling,  "  you  are  very  generous,  — 
very  indulgent.  The  moment  my  books  begin  to  pay,  what  is 
mine  shall  be  youi-s ;  and  if  you  can  conveniently  accommodate 
me  for  a  few  months,  till  the  work  I  'm  now  writing  is  —  " 

"  Accommodate  you  ?  Of  course  we  can  !  The  more  the 
merrier,"  interrupted  Pompilard.  "  So  it 's  settled.  The 
wedding  comes  off  next  Wednesday." 

And  the  wedding  came  off  according  to  the  progi-amme.  It 
took  place  in  church.  Pompilard  was  in  his  glory.  Cards  had 
been  issued  to  all  his  friends  of  former  days.  Many  had  con- 
veniently forgotten  that  such  a  person  existed ;  but  there  were 
some  noble  exceptions,  as  there  generally  are  in  such  cases. 
Presents  of  silver,  of  dresses,  books,  furniture,  and  pictures  were 
tent  in  from  friends  both  of  the  bride  and  bridegroom  ;  so  that 
the  trousseau  presented  a  very  respectable  appearance  ;  but  the 
prettiest  gift  of  the  occasion  was  a  little  porte-monnaie,  contain- 
ing a  check  for  two  thousand  dollars  signed  by  Pat  Maloney. 

As  for  Charlton,  young  in  years,  if  not  in  heart,  good-looking, 
a  widower  unencumbered  with  a  child,  what  was  there  he  might 
not  aspii-e  to  with  his  twelve  hundred  thousand  dollars  ? 

He  was  taken  in  charge  by  the  J s,  and  the  M s, 

and  the  P s,  and  introduced  into  "  society."     Yes,  that  is 

the  proper  name  for  "  our  set."  A  competition,  outwardly  calm, 
but  internally  bitter  and  intense,  was  entered  upon  by  fashion- 
able mothers  having  daughters  to  provide  for.  Charlton  be- 
came the  sensation  man  of  the  season.  '*  WlQ  he  marry  ?  "  That 
was  now  the  agitating  question  that  convulsed  all  the  maternal 
councib  within  a  mile's  radius  of  the  new  F,if"th  Avenue  Hotel. 


THE    UMITIES  DISKEGAKUKD.  183 

CHAPTER    XVIII. 

THE  UNITIES  DISKEGARDED. 

"  Blessed  are  they  who  see,  and  yet  believe  not ! 
Yea,  blest  are  they  who  look  on  graves,  and  still 
Believe  none  dead  ;  who  see  proud  tyrants  ruling, 
And  yet  believe  not  in  the  strength  of  Evil." 

Leopold  Schefer. 

THE  admirers  of  Aristotle  must  bear  with  us  while  we 
take  a  little  liberty:  that,  namely,  of  violating  all  the 
unities. 

Fourteen  years  had  slipped  by  since  the  great  steamboat 
accident ;  fourteen  years,  pregnant  with  forces,  and  prolific  of 
events,  to  the  far-reaching  influence  of  which  no  limit  can  be 
set. 

In  those  years  a  mechanic  named  Marshall,  while  build- 
ing a  saw-mill  for  Captain  Sutter  in  California,  had  noticed  a 
glistening  substance  at  the  bottom  of  the  sluice.  Thence  the 
beginning  of  the  great  exodus  from  the  old  States,  which  soon 
peopled  the  auriferous  region,  and  in  five  years  made  San 
Francisco  one  of  the  world's  great  cities. 

In  those  years  the  phenomena,  by  some  called  spiritual,  of 
which  our  friend  Peek  had  got  an  inkling,  excited  the  atten- 
tion of  many  thousand  thinkers  both  in  America  and  Europe. 
In  France  these  manifestations  attracted  the  investigation  of 
the  Emperor  himself,  and  won  many  influential  believers, 
among  them  Delamarre,  editor  of  La  Patrie.  In  England 
tliey  ibund  advocates  among  a  small  but  educated  class  ;  while 
tlie  Queen's  consort,  the  good  and  great  Prince  Albert,  was 
too  far  advanced  on  the  same  road  to  find  even  novelty  in 
what  Swedenborg  and  Wesley  had  long  before  prepared  him 
to  regard  as  among  the  irregular  developments  of  spirit  power. 

"  Humbug  and  idiocy  ! "  cried  the  doctors. 

"  A  cracking  of  the  toe-joints  !  "  said  Conjurer  Anderson. 

"  A  scientific  trick  ! "  insisted  Professor  Faraday. 


184  PECULIAR. 

'*  Spiiits  are  the  last  thing  I  '11  give  into,"  said  Sir  David 
Brewster. 

"  0  je  miserable  mystics ! "  cried  the  eloquent  Ferrier, 
"  have  ye  bethought  yourselves  of  the  backward  and  down- 
"ward  course  which  ye  are  running  into  the  pit  of  the  bestial 
and  the  abhorred  ?  " 

"  How  very  undignified  for  a  spirit  to  rap  on  tables  and  talk 
commonplace  ! "  objected  the  transcendentalists,  who  looked  for 
Orphic  sayings  and  Delphian  profundities. 

To  all  which  the  investigators  replied :  TVe  merely  take 
facts  as  we  find  them.  The  conjurers  and  the  professors  fail 
to  account  for  what  we  see  and  hear.  Sir  David  may  give  or 
refuse  what  name  he  pleases :  the  phenomena  remain.  Pro- 
fessor Ferrier  may  wax  indignant ;  but  his  indignation  does 
not  explain  why  tables,  guitars,  and  tumblers  of  water  are 
lifted  and  carried  about  by  invisible  and  impenetrable  intelli- 
gent forces.  We  are  sorry  the  manifestations  do  not  please 
our  transcendental  friends.  Could  we  have  our  own  way, 
these  spirits,  forces,  intelligences  —  call  them  what  you  will  — 
should  talk  like  Carlyle  and  deport  themselves  like  Grandison. 
Could  we  have  our  own  way,  there  should  be  no  rattlesnakes, 
no  copperheads,  no  mad  dogs.  'T  is  a  great  puzzle  to  us  why 
Infinite  Power  allows  such  things.  "We  do  not  see  the  use  of 
them,  the  cui  bono  ?  Still  we  accept  the  fact  of  their  existence. 
And  so  we  do  of  what,  in  the  lack  of  a  name  less  vague,  we 
call  spirits.  There  are  many  drunkards,  imbeciles,  thieves, 
hypocrites,  and  traitors,  who  quit  this  life.  According  to  the 
transcendental  theory,  these  ought  to  be  converted  at  once,  by 
some  magical  presto-change  !  into  saints  and  sages,  their  iden- 
tity wholly  merged  or  obliterated.  K  the  All- Wise  One  does 
not  see  it  in  that  light,  we  cannot  help  it.  If  He  can  aiFord  to 
wait,  we  shall  not  impatiently  rave.  It  would  seem  that  the 
Eternal  chariot-wheels  must  continue  to  roll  and  flash  on, 
however  professors,  conjurers,  and  quarterly  reviewers  may 
bum  their  poor  little  hands  by  trying  to  catch  at  the  spokes. 

"  I  did  not  bargain  for  this,"  gi'umbles  the  habitual  novel- 
reader,  resentfully  throwing  down  our  book. 

Bear  with  us  yet  a  moment  longer,  injured  friend. 

During  these  same  fourteen  years  of  which  we  have  spoken, 


THE  UNITIES  DISREGARDED.  185 

the  Slave  Power  of  the  South  having,  through  the  annexation 
of  Texas,  plunged  the  country  into  a  war  with  Mexico  for  the 
extension  of  the  area  of  slavery,  met  its  first  great  rebuff  in 
the  establishment  of  California  as  a  Free  State  of  the  Union. 

The  Fugitive-Slave  Bill  was  given  in  1850  to  appease  the 
slaveholding  caste.  Soon  afterwards  followed  the  repeal  of 
that  Missouri  Compromise  which  had  prohibited  slavery  north 
of  a  certain  line.  It  was  hoped  that  these  two  concessions 
would  prove  such  a  tub  thrown  to  the  whale  as  would  divert 
him  from  mischief. 

Then  came  the  deadly  struggle  for  supremacy  in  Kansas  ; 
pro-slavery  ruffianism,  on  the  one  side,  striving  to  dedicate  the 
virgin  soil  to  the  uses  of  slavery ;  and  the  spirit  of  freedom,  on 
the  other  side,  resisting  the  profanation.  The  contest  was  long, 
doubtful,  and  bloody ;  but  freedom,  thank  God !  prevailed  in 
the  end.  Slavery  thus  came  to  grief  a  second  time ;  for  the 
lords  of  the  lash  well  knew  that  to  circumscribe  their  system 
was  to  doom  it,  and  that  without  ever  new  fields  for  extension 
it  could  not  live  and  prosper. 

One  John  Brown,  of  Ossawatomie  in  Kansas,  during  these 
yeai's  having  learnt  what  it  was  to  come  under  the  ban  of 
the  Slave  Power,  —  having  been  hunted,  hounded,  shot  at,  and 
had  a  son  brutally  murdered  by  the  devilish  hate,  born  of  slav- 
ery, and  engendering  such  dastardly  butchers  as  Quantrell,  — 
resolved  to  do  what  little  service  he  could  to  God  and  man,  by 
trying  to  wipe  out  an  injustice  that  had  long  enough  outraged 
heaven  and  earth.  With  less  than  fifty  picked  men  he  rashly 
seized  on  Harper's  Ferry,  held  it  for  some  days,  and  threw  old 
Virginia  into  fits.  He  was  seized  and  hung ;  and  many  good 
men  approved  the  hanging;  but  in  little  more  than  a  year 
afterwards,  John  Brown's  soul  was  "  marching  on  "  in  the  song 
of  the  Northern  soldiery  going  South  to  battle  against  rebellion" 
until  the  very  Charlestown  where  his  gallows  was  set  up  was 
made  to  ring  with  the  terrible  refrain  in  his  honor,  the  echoes  of 
which  are  now  audible  in  every  State,  from  Maine  to  Louisiana. 

Slavery  first  showed  its  ungloved  hand  at  the  Democratic 
Convention  at  Charleston  in  1860  for  the  nomination  of  Pres- 
ident. Here  it  was  that  Stephen  A.  Douglas,  the  very  man 
who  had  given  to  the  South  as  a  boon  the  repeal  of  the  Mis- 


186  PECULIAR. 

soLiri  Compromise,  was  rejected  by  tlie  Soutliern  conspirators 
against  the  Union,  and  John  C.  Breckenridge,  the  potential  and 
soon  actual  traitor,  was  put  in  nomination  as  tlie  extreme  pro- 
slavery  candidate  against  Douglas.  And  thus  the  election  of 
Abraham  Lincoln,  the  candidate  pledged  against  slavery  exten- 
sion, was  secured. 

This  election  "  is  not  the  cause  of  secession,  but  the  oppor- 
tunity," said  Mr.  Robert  Barnwell  Rhett  of  South  Carolina. 
''  Slavery  shall  be  the  corner-stone  of  our  new  Confederacy," 
said  Mr.  A.  H.  Stephens,  Confederate  Vice-President,  who  a 
few  weeks  before,  namely,  in  January,  1861,  had  said  in  the 
Georgia  Convention :  "  For  you  to  attempt  to  overthrow  such 
a  government  as  this,  under  which  we  have  lived  for  more  than 
three  quarters  of  a  century,  with  unbounded  prosperity  and 
rights  unassailed,  is  the  heiglit  of  madness,  folly,  and  wicked- 
ness, to  which  I  can  neither  lend  my  sanction  nor  my  vote." 

After  raising  armies  for  seizing  Washington  and  for  securing 
the  Border  States  to  slavery,  Mr.  Jefferson  Davis,  President, 
of  the  improvised  Confederacy,  proclaimed  to  an  amused  and 
admiring  world,  '•  All  we  want  is  to  be  let  alone." 

Peaceful  reader  of  the  year  1875  (pardon  the  presumption 
that  bids  us  hope  such  a  reader  will  exist),  bear  with  us  for 
these  digressions.  In  your  better  day  let  us  hope  all  these  ter- 
rible asperities  will  have  passed  away.  But,  wliile  we  write, 
our  country's  fate  hangs  poised.  It  is  her  great  historic  hour. 
Daily  do  our  tears  fall  for  the  wounded  or  the  slain.  Daily  do 
we  regret  that  we,  too,  cannot  give  something  better  than  words, 
thicker  than  tear-drops,  to  our  country.  But  thus,  through 
blood  and  anguish  and  purifying  sufferings,  is  God  leading  us 
to  that  better  future  which  you  shall  enjoy. 


THE   WHITE  SLAVE.  187 

CHAPTER    XIX. 

THE  WHITE  SLAVE. 

"Because  Immortal,  therefore  is  indulged 
This  strange  regard  of  deities  to  dust ! 
Hence,  Heaven  looks  down  on  Earth  with  all  her  eyes  ; 
Hence,  the  soul's  mighty  moment  in  her  sight ; 
Henoe,  every  soul  has  partisans  above, 
And  every  thought  a  critic  in  the  skies." 

Young. 

"  The  creature  is  great,  to  whom  it  is  allowed  to  imagine  questions  to  which  only  a 
God  can  reply."  — ^mc  Martin. 

NO  one  who  has  travelled  largely  through  the  Southern 
States  will  require  to  be  told  that  the  slave  system 
sanctions  the  holding  in  slavery  of  persons  who  are  undis- 
tinguishable  in  complexion  from  the  whitest  Anglo-Saxons. 
Several  carefully  authenticated  cases,  analogous  to  that  devel- 
oped ip  our  story,  though  surpassing  it  in  unspeakable  base- 
ness, have  been  recently  brought  to  light.  We  need  only  hint 
at  them  at  this  stage  of  our  narrative. 

The  reader  has  already  divined  that  ihQ  little  girl  sold  at 
the  slave-auction,  and  placed  under  Mrs.  Gentry's  care,  was  no 
other  than  the  unfortunate  child  whose  parents  were  lost  in 
the  disaster  of  the  Pontiac. 

There  is  a  class  of  minds  which,  either  from  inertness  or 
lack  of  leisure,  never  revise  the  opinions  they  have  received 
from  others.  If  we  might  borrow  a  fresh  illustration  from 
Mrs.  Gentry's  copy-hooks,  we  might  say  that  in  her  mental 
growth  the  tree  was  inclined  precisely  as  the  twig  had  been 
bent.  She  honestly  believed  that  there  was  no  appeal  from 
wliat  her  sire,  the  judge,  had  once  laid  down  as  law  or  gospel. 
Having  been  bred  in  the  belief  that  slavery  was  a  whoFesome 
and  sacred  institution,  she  would  probably  have  seen  her  own 
sister  dragged  under  it  to  the  auction-block,  and  not  have  ven- 
tured to  question  the  righteousness  of  the  act. 

There  were  only  two  passions  which,  should  they  ever  come 


188  PECULIAR. 

in  direct  collision  with  her  veneration  for  slavery,  might  possi- 
bly override  it ;  but  even  on  this  there  seemed  to  rest  much 
unceitainty.  Her  acquisitiveness,  as  the  phrenologists  would 
have  called  it,  was  large  ;  and  then,  although  she  was  fast  de- 
clining into  the  sere  and  yellow  leaf,  she  had  not  surrendered 
all  hope  of  one  day  finding  a  successor  to  the  late  Mr.  Gentiy 
in  her  affections. 

Regarding  poor  little  Clara  Berwick  (or  Ellen  Murray)  as 
a  slave,  she  could  never  be  so  far  moved  by  the  child's  win- 
ning presence  and  ways  as  to  look  on  her  as  entitled  to  the 
same  atmosphere  and  sun  as  herself.  No  infantile  grace,  no 
soHcitation  of  affection,  could  ever  melt  the  icy  barrier  with 
which  the  pride  and  self-seeking,  fostered  by  slavery,  had 
encircled  the  heart,  not  naturally  bad,  of  the  schoolmistress. 
And  yet  she  did  her  duty  by  the  child  to  the  best  of  her 
ability.  Though  not  a  highly  educated  person,  Mrs.  Gentry 
was  shrewd  enough  to  employ  for  her  pupils  the  most  accom- 
phshed  teachers  ;  and  in  respect  to  Clara  she  faithfully  carried 
out  IMr.  Ratcliff's  directions.  True,  she  always  exacted  an 
obedience  that  was  unquestioning  and  blind.  She  did  not  care 
to  see  that  the  child  could  have  been  led  by  a  silken  thi-ead, 
only  satisfy  her  reason  or  appeal  to  her  affections.  And  so  it 
was  to  Esha  that  Clara  would  always  have  to  go  for  sympa- 
thy, both  in  her  sorrows  and  her  joys  ;  and  it  was  Esha  whose 
influence  was  felt  in  the  very  depths  of  that  fresh  and  sensitive 
nature. 

From  her  third  to  her  fourteenth  year  Clara  gave  httle 
promise  of  beauty.  Ratcliff,  on  recei\dng  her  photographs, 
used  to  throw  them  aside  with  a  "  Psha !  After  all,  she  '11  be 
fit  only  for  a  household  drudge." 

But  as  she  emerged  into  her  sixteenth  year,  and  features 
and  form  began  to  develop  the  full  meaning  of  their  outlines,  she 
all  at  once  appeared  in  the  new  and  startling  phase  of  a  rare 
model  of  incipient  womanhood.  Her  haii*,  thick  and  flowing, 
was  of  a  softened  brown  tint,  which  yet  was  distinct  from  that 
cognate  hue,  ahrun  (a-brown)  or  auburn,  a  shade  suggestive  of 
red.  Her  complexion  was  cleai"  and  pure,  though  not  of  that 
brilliant  pink  and  white  often  associated  with  delicacy  of  con- 
stitution.    A  profile,  delicately  cut  as  if  to  be  the  despair  of 


THE  WHITE  SLAVE.  189 

sculptors  ;  a  forehead  not  high,  but  high  enough  to  show 
INIind  enthroned  there ;  eves  —  it  was  not  till  you  drew  quite 
near  that  you  marked  the  peculiarity  already  described  in  the 
infant  of  the  Pontiac.  The  mouth  and  lips  were  small  and  pas- 
sionate, the  chin  bold,  yet  not  protrusive,  the  nostrils  having 
that  indescribable  curve  which  often  makes  this  feature  surpass 
all  the  others  in  gi^■ing  a  character  of  decision  to  a  face.  A 
man  of  the  turf  would  have  summed  up  his  whole  desci-iption 
of  the  girl  in  the  one  word  "  blood." 

Such  a  union  of  the  sensuous  nature  with  pure  will  and  in- 
tellect might  well  have  made  a  watchful  parent  tremble  for  her 
future. 

Ratcliff  had  been  for  more  than  a  year  in  South  Carohna, 
helping  to  fire  the  Southern  heart,  and  forward  the  secession 
movement.  Early  in  January,  1861,  he  made  a  flying  visit  to 
New  Orleans,  and  called  on  Mrs.  Gentry. 

After  some  conversation  on  public  affairs,  the  lady  asked, 
"  Would  you  like  to  see  my  pupil  ?  " 

"  Not  if  she  resembles  the  photographs  you  've  sent  me,"  re- 
plied Ratcliff.  Then,  looking  at  his  watch,  he  added  :  "  I  leave 
for  Charleston  this  afteraoon,  and  have  n't  time  to  see  her  now. 
Early  in  March  I  shall  be  back,  and  will  call  then." 

"  You  must  see  her  a  minute,"  said  Mrs.  Gentry.  "  I  think 
you  '11  admit  she  does  no  discredit  to  my  bringing  up."  And 
she  rang  the  bell. 

"  Tell  Miss  Murray,  I  desire  her  presence  in  the  parlor." 

Clara  entered.  She  was  attired  in  a  plain  robe  of  slate- 
colored  muslin,  exquisitely  fitted,  and  had  a  book  in  her  hand, 
as  if  just  interrupted  in  study.  She  stood  inquiringly  before 
the  schoolmistress,  and  seemed  unconscious  of  another's  pres- 
ence. 

"  I  wish  you,  IMiss  Murray,  to  play  for  this  gentleman.  Play 
the  piece  you  last  learnt." 

Without  the  slightest  shyness,  Clara  obeyed,  seating  herself 
at  the  piano,  and  performing  Schubert's  delectable  "  Lob  der 
Throenen,"  (Eulogy  of  Tears.)  with  Liszt's  arrangement.  This 
she  did  with  an  executive  facility  and  precision  of  touch  that 
would  have  charmed  a  competent  judge,  which  Ratcliff  was  not. 

And  yet  astonishment  made  him  speechless.     He  had  ex- 


lyO  PFXULIAR. 

pected  an  undeveloped,  awkward,  homely  girl.  Lo  a  l)eaiitirul 
young  woman  whose  perfect  composure  and  grace  were  such  as 
few  queens  of  society  could  exhibit  I  And  all  that  youth  and 
loveliness  were  his  ! 

He  looked  at  his  watch.  Not  another  moment  could  he 
remain.  He  drew  near  to  Clara  and  took  her  hand,  which  she 
quickly  withdrew.  "Only  maiden  coyness,"  thought  he,  and 
said  :  '•  We  must  be  better  acquainted.  But  I  must  now  hasten 
from  your  dangerous  society,  or  I  shall  miss  the  steamer. 
Good  by,  my  dear.  Good  by,  Mrs.  Gentry.  You  shall  hear 
from  me  very  soon." 

And  Mrs.  Gentry  rang  the  bell,  and  black  Tarquin  opened 
the  door  for  RatclifF.  As  it  closed  upon  him,  "  Who  is  that 
old  man  ?  "  asked  Clara. 

"  Old  ?  Wliy,  he  does  n't  look  a  year  over  forty,"  replied 
Mrs.  Gentry.     "  That  's  the  rich  Mr.  RatclifF." 

"  Well,  I  detest  him,"  said  Clara,  emphatically. 

"  Detest !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Gentry,  horror-stricken  ;  for  it 
was  not  often  that  Clara  condescended  to  speak  her  mind  so 
freely  to  that  lady.  "  Detest  ?  Is  this  the  end  of  all  my 
moral  and  religious  teachings  ?  O,  but  you  11  be  come  up  with, 
if  you  go  on  in  this  way.     Retire  to  your  room,  Miss." 

Swiftly  and  gladly  Clara  obeyed. 

Apropos  of  the  aforesaid  teachings,  Ratcliff  was  very  will- 
ing that  his  predestined  victim  should  be  piously  inclined.  It 
would  rather  add  to  the  piquancy  of  her  degradation.  He 
wavered  somewhat  as  to  whether  she  should  be  a  Protestant 
or  a  Catholic,  but  finally  left  the  whole  matter  to  Mrs.  Gentry. 
That  profound  theologian  had  done  her  best  to  lead  Clara  into 
her  own  select  fold,  and,  as  she  thouglit,  had  succeeded  ;  but 
Clara  was  pretty  sure  to  tak^  up  opinions  the  reverse  of  those 
held  by  her  teacher.  So,  after  sitting  in  weariness  of  spirit 
under  the  ministry  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Palmer  in  the  morning, 
the  perverse  young  lady  would  ventilate  her  religious  concep- 
tions by  reading  Fenelon,  Madame  Guyon,  or  Zschokke  in  the 
evening. 

Mrs.  Gentry  believed  in  secession,  and  raved  like  a  Pytho- 
ness against  the  cowardly  Yankees.  Clara,  seeing  a  United 
States  flag  trampled  on  and  torn  in  the  street,  secured  a  rag 


THE   WHITE   SLAVE.  191 

of  it,  secretly  washed  it,  and  placed  it  as  a  holy  symbol  on  her 
bosom.  Mrs.  Gentry  expatiated  to  her  pupils  on  the  nght- 
eousness  and  venerableness  of  slavery.  Clara  cut  out  from  a 
pictorial  paper  a  i)oor  little  dingy  picture  of  Fremont,  and 
concealed  it  between  two  leaves  of  her  Bible,  underlining  on 
one  of  them  these  words  :  "  Proclaim  liberty  throughout  all 
the  land  unto  all  the  inhabitants  thereof." 

Esha,  the  colored  cook,  a  slave,  was  Clara's  fast  friend  in  all 
her  youthful  troubles.  Esha  had  passed  through  all  degi'ees 
of  slavery, — from  toiling  in  a  cotton-field  to  serving  as  a  lady's 
maid.  Having  had  a  child,  a  little  girl,  taken  from  her  and 
sold,  she  ever  afterwards  refused  to  be  again  a  mother.  The 
straight  hair,  coppery  hue,  and  somewdiat  Caucasian  cast  of 
features  of  this  slave  showed  that  she  belonged  to  a  race  dif- 
ferent from  that  of  the  ordinary  negro.  She  had  been  named 
Ayesha,  after  one  of  Mahomet's  wives.  She  generally  wore  a 
Madras  handkerchief  about  her  head,  and  showed  a  partiality 
for  brilliant  colors.  Many  were  the  stealthy  interviews  that 
she  and  Clara  enjoyed  together. 

Said  Esha,  on  one  of  these  occasions  :  "  Don't  b'leeb  'em, 
darlin',  whan  dey  say  de  slabe  am  berry  happy,  an'  all  dat. 
No  slabe  dat  hab  any  sense  am  happy.  He  know,  he  do,  dat 
suffn's  tuk  away  from  him  dat  God  gabe  him,  and  meant  he 
sh'd  hole  on  ter ;  and  so  he  feel  oUerz  kind  o'  mean  afore  God 
an'  man  too  ;  an'  I  'fy  anybody,  wliite  or  black,  to  be  happy 
who  feel  dat  ar  way." 

"  But  it  is  n't  the  slave's  fault,  Esha,  that  he  's  a  slave." 

"  It 's  de  slabe's  fault  dat  he  stay  a  slabe,  darlin',"  said  the 
old  woman,  with  a  strange  kindling  of  the  eyes.  "  But  den  de 
massa  hab  de  raisin'  ob  him,  an'  so  take  good  car'  ter  break 
down  all  dar  am  of  de  man  in  de  poor  slabe ;  an'  de  poor  slabe 
hab  no  larnin',  and  dunno  wdiar'  to  git  a  libbin'  or  how  to  sabe 
hisself  from  starvin'.  An'  if  he  run  away,  de  people  Norf  send 
liim  back." 

On  studying  Esha  further,  Clara  discovered  that  she  was 
half  Mahometan,  and  could  speak  Arabic.  Her  mixed  notions 
she  had  got  partly  from  her  father,  Amri,  who  belonged  to 
one  of  those  African  tribes  who  cultivate  a  pure  deism,  tem- 
pered only  by  faith  in  the  mission  of  Mahomet  as  an  inspired 


192  PKCrLIAR. 

prophet.  Amrl  had  been  captured  by  a  hostile  tribe  and  sold 
into  slavery.  He  lived  long  enough  to  teach  his  little  Eslua 
some  things  which  she  remembered.  She  could  repeat  several 
Arabic  poems,  and  Clara  first  became  familiar  with  the  Ara- 
bian Nights  through  this  old  household  drudge.  One  of  these 
poems  had  a  mystical  charm  for  Clara.  Through  the  illiterate 
gai'b  which  the  slave's  English  gave  it,  Clara  detected  a  signili- 
cance  that  led  her  to  write  out  a  paraphrase  in  the  following 
words  :  — 

"The  sick  man  lav  on  his  bed  of  pain.  'Allah!'  he  moaned;  and  his 
heart  grew  tender,  and  hi^  eyes  moist,  with  prayer. 

"The  next  morning  the  tempter  said  to  him:  'No  answer  comes  from 
Allah.     Call  louder,  still  no  Allah  will  hear  thee  or  ease  thy  pain.' 

"  The  sick  man  shuddered.  His  heart  grew  cold  with  doubt  and  inquie- 
tude; when  suddenly  before  him  stood  Elias. 

"  '  Child ! '  said  Elias,  '  why  art  thou  sad  ?  Dost  think  thy  prayers  are 
unheard  and  unanswered;  that  thy  devotion  is  all  in  vain?  ' 

"  And  the  sick  man  replied:  'Ah!  so  often,  and  with  such  tears  I  have 
called  on  AJlah !     I  call  Allah  !  but  never  do  I  hear  his  "  Here  am  I !  "  ' 

"  And  Elias  left  the  sick  man ;  but  God  said  to  Elias :  '  Go  to  the  tempted 
one;  lift  him  up  from  his  despair  and  unbelief. 

"'Tell  him  that  his  very  longing  is  its  own  fulfilment;  that  his  very 
prayer,  "  Come,  Allah!  "  is  Allah's  answer,  "  Here  am  I !  "  ' 

"  Yes,  every  good  aspiration  is  an  angel  straight  from  God.  Say  from  the 
heart,  '  0  my  Father ! '  and  that  very  utterance  is  the  Father's  reply,  '  Here, 
my  child! '  "  * 

Like  many  native  Africans,  Esha  was  fully  assured  of  the 
existence  of  spirits,  and  of  their  power,  in  exceptional  cases, 
to  manifest  themselves  to  mortals.  And  she  related  so  many 
facts  within  her  own  experience,  that  Clara  became  a  believer 
on  human  testimony,  —  the  more  readily  because  Esha's  faith 
in  demonism  was  unmixed  with  superstition. 

"  Tell  me,  Esha,"  said  Clara,  at  one  of  their  secret  midnight 
conferences,  "  were  you  ever  whipped  ?  " 

"  Never  badly,  darlin'.  It  ain't  de  whippins  and  de  suf 'rins 
dat  make  de  w^rong  ob  slavery.  De  mos  kindest  thing  dey 
could  do  de  slabe  would  be  ter  treat  him  so  he  would  n't  stay  a 
slabe  no  how.  But  dey  know  jes  how  fur  to  go,  widout  stirrin' 
up  de  man  inside  ob  him.     An'  dat 's  the  cuss  ob  slabery." 

"  But,  Esha,  don't  they  generally  treat  the  women  well  on 
the  plantations  ?  " 

*  Bv  D'^cheladeddin,  a  famous  Mahometan  mvstic. 


THE  WHITE  SLAVE.  193 

"  De  breedin'  women  dey  treat  well,  —  spesliilly  jes  afore  dar 
time,*  —  but  I  'ze  known  a  pregnant  woman  whipped  so  she 
died  de  same  night.  O  de  poor  bressed  lily  ob  de  world !  O 
de  angel  from  liebbn  !  0  de  sweet  lubly  chile !  Nebber,  no, 
nebber,  nebber  shall  I  disremember  how  I  held  de  little  gole 
cross  afore  dat  chile's  eyes,  an'  how  she  die  wid  de  smile  on  her 
sweet  face,  and  her  own  husband's  head  on  her  bosom." 

And  the  old  woman  burst  into  a  passion  of  tears,  rocking 
herself  to  and  fro,  and  living  over  again  the  sorrow  of  that 
death-bed  scene  to  which  she  and  Peek  and  one  other,  years 
before,  had  been  witnesses. 

Clara  pacified  her,  and  Esha  said,  "  You  jes  stop  one 
minute,  darlin',  and  I'll  show  yer  suff'n."  She  went  to  her 
gai-ret-closet,  and  returaed  with  a  small  silk  bag,  from  which 
she  took  a  package  done  up  in  fine  linen.  This  she  unpinned, 
and  displayed  a  long  strand  of  human  hair,  thick,  silky,  soft, 
and  of  a  peculiarly  beautiful  color,  hardly  olive,  yet  reminding 
one  of  that  hue.  Holding  it  up,  she  said :  "  Dar  !  Dat 's  de 
hair  I  cut  from  de  head  of  dat  same  bress-ed  chile  I  jes  tell 
yer  'bout." 

"  But  that  is  the  hair  of  a  white  woman,"  said  Clara. 

"  Bress  yer,  darlin',  she  war  jes  as  white  as  you  am  dis 
minute." 

After  some  seconds  of  silence,  Clara  said,  "  Tell  me  of  her." 

And  Esha  related  many,  though  not  all,  of  the  particulars 
already  familiar  to  the  reader  in  the  story  of  Estelle. 

"  Esha,  you  must  give  me  some  of  that  hair,"  said  Clara. 

"  Yes,  darlin',  I  '11  change  half  of  it  fur  some  ob  yourn." 

The  exchange  was  made,  Clara  wrapping  her  portion  in  the 
little  strip  of  bunting  torn  from  the  American  flag. 

On  the  subject  of  her  birth  Clara  had  put  to  JVIrs.  Gentry 
some  searching  questions,  but  had  learnt  simply  that  her  par- 
entage was  unknown.  For  her  concealed  benefactor  she  had 
conceived  a  romantic  attachment ;  and  gratitude  incited  her  to 
make  the  best  of  her  opportunities,  and  to  patiently  bear  her 
chagrins. 

A  month  after  the  late  interview  with  Ratcliff,  Mrs.  Gentry 

*  Oe   vie  contrary,  Mrs.  Kemble  says  they  are  cruelly  treated,  and  that 
the  forms  of  suiferng  are  "  manifold  and  terrible  "  in  consequence. 
9  M 


194  PFXULIAR. 

received  a  letter  which  caused  Clara  to  be  summoned  to  her 
presence. 

"  Sit  down.  I  Ve  something  important  to  communicate," 
said  the  schoolmistress.  "  You  've  often  asked  me  to  whom 
you  are  indebted  for  your  support.  Learn  now  that  you  be- 
long to  ]Mr.  Carberry  Ratcliff,  whom  you  met  here  some  weeks 
ago.  He  is  the  rich  planter  whose  house  and  grounds  in 
Lafayette  you  've  often  admired." 

"  Belong  to  him  ?  "  cried  Clara.  "  What  do  you  mean  ? 
Am  I  his  daughter  ?     Am  I  in  any  way  related  ? " 

"  No,  you  're  his  slave.     He  bought  you  at  auction." 

Lnpulsive  as  her  own  mocking-bird  by  nature,  Clara  had 
learned  that  cruel  lesson,  which  gifted  children  are  often  com- 
pelled to  acquire  when  subjected  to  the  rule  of  inferior  minds, 
—  the  art,  namely,  of  checking  and  disguising  the  emotions. 

Excepting  a  quivering  of  her  lips,  a  flushing  of  her  brow,  a 
slight  heaving  of  her  bosom,  and  a  momentary  expression  as 
of  deadly  sickness  in  her  face,  she  did  not  betray,  by  outward 
signs,  the  intensity  of  that  feeling  of  disgust,  hate,  and  indigna- 
tion which  Mrs.  Gentry's  communication  had  aroused. 

"  Did  jMr.  Ratcliff  request  you  to  inform  me  that  he  con- 
sidered me  his  slave  ? "  she  asked,  in  a  tone  which,  by  a 
strenuous  effort,  she  divested  of  all  significance. 

"  Yes ;  he  concluded  you  are  now  of  an  age  to  understand 
the  responsibilities  of  your  real  situation.  He  not  only  paid  a 
price  for  you  when  you  were  yet  an  infant,  but  he  has  main- 
tained you  ever  since.  But  for  him  you  might  have  been 
toiling  in  the  sun  on  a  plantation.  But  for  him  you  might 
never  have  got  an  education.  But  for  him  you  might  never 
have  heard  of  salvation  thi'ough  Christ.  But  for  him  you  might 
never  have  had  the  privilege  of  attending  the  Rev.  Dr.  Palmer's 
Sunday  school.  Is  there  any  sacrifice  too  great  for  you  to 
make  for  such  a  master  ?  "Would  it  be  too  much  for  you  to  lay 
down  your  life  for  him  ?     Speak  ! " 

Mrs.  Gentry,  it  will  be  seen,  pursued  the  Socratic  method  of 
impressing  truth  upon  her  pupils.  As  Clara  made  no  reply  to 
her  interrogatories,  she  continued  :  "  As  your  instructress,  it 
has  been  my  object  to  make  you  feel  sensibly  the  importance 
of  doing  your  duty  in  whatever  sphere  you  may  be  ca^t," 


THE   WHITE   SLAVE.  195 

"  And  what,  madame,  may  be  the  duty  of  a  slave  ?  "  inter- 
posed Clara,  stifling  down  and  masking  the  rage  of  her 
heart. 

"  The  duty  of  a  slave,"  said  Mrs.  Gentry,  "  is  to  obey  her 
master.     Prompt  and  unhesitating  obedience,  that  is  her  duty." 

"  Obedience  to  any  and  every  command,  —  is  that  what  you 
mean,  madame  ?  " 

"  Unquestionably,  it  is." 

"  And  must  I  not  exercise  my  reason  as  to  what  is  right  or 
•wrong  ?  " 

"  Your  reason,  under  slavery,  is  subordinated  to  another's. 
You  must  not  set  up  your  own  reason  against  your  master's." 

"  Supposing  my  master  should  order  me  to  stab  or  poison 
you,  —  ought  I  to  do  it  ?  " 

The  judge's  daughter,  hke  all  who  venture  to  vindicate  the 
leprous  wrong  on  moral  grounds,  found  herself  nonplussed. 

"  You  suppose  a  ridiculous  and  improbable  case,"  she  replied. 

"  Well,  madame,  let  me  state  a  fact.  One  of  your  pupils 
had  a  letter  yesterday  from  a  sister  in  Alabama,  who  wrote 
that  a  slave  woman  had  killed  herself  under  these  circum- 
stances :  her  master  had  compelled  her  to  unite  herself  in  so- 
called  marriage  with  a  black  man,  though  she  fully  beheved  a 
former  husband  still  lived.  To  escape  the  abhorred  conse- 
quence, she  put  an  end  to  her  life.  Was  that  woman  right  or 
wrong  in  opposing  her  master's  will  ?  " 

"  How  can  you  ask  ?  "  returned  Mrs.  Gentry,  reproachfully. 
"  'T  is  the  slave's  duty  to  marry  as  the  master  orders." 

"  Even  though  her  husband  be  living,  do  I  understand  you  ?" 

"Undoubtedly.  Ministers  of  the  Gospel  will  tell  you,  if 
there 's  wrong  in  it,  the  master,  not  the  slave,  is  to  blame."  * 

"  I  thank  you  for  making  the  slave's  duty  so  clear.  You  're 
quite  sure  Dr.  Palmer  w  ould  approve  your  view  ?  " 

"  Entirely.  All  his  preacliing  on  the  subject  convinces  me 
of  it." 

"  And  the  woman,  you  think,  who  killed  herself  rather  than 
be  false  to  her  husband,  went  straight  to  hell  ?  " 

*  The  Savannah  River  Baptist  Association  of  Ministers  decreed  (1836) 
that  the  slave,  sold  at  a  distance  from  his  home,  was  not  to  be  countenanced 
by  the  chnrch  in  resisting  his  master's  will  that  he  should  take  a  new  wife. 


196  PECULIAR. 

"  I  can  hope  uotliing  better  for  her.  Slie  must  have  been  a 
poor  heathen  creature,  wholly  ignorant  of  Scripture.  Paul 
commands  slaves  to  obey ;  and  the  woman  who  wilfully  violates 
his  injunction  does  it  at  the  peril  of  her  soul." 

Clara  was  silent ;  and  Mrs.  Gentry,  felicitating  herself  on  the 
powerful  moral  lesson  adapted  to  her  pupil's  "  new  sphere  of 
duty,"  resumed,  "  By  the  way,  your  master  —  " 

"  Master  !  "  shrieked  Gara,  running  with  upraised  hands  to 
IMrs.  Gentry,  as  if  to  dash  them  down  on  her.  Then  suddenly 
checking  herself,  she  said  pleasantly :  "  You  see  I  'm  a  little  un- 
used to  the  name.     What  were  you  going  to  say  ?  " 

"  Really,  cliild,  one  would  think  you  were  out  of  your  wits. 
It  is  n't  as  if  you  were  going  to  be  consigned  to  a  master  who  'd 
abuse  you.  There  's  many  a  poor  gu'l  in  our  first  society  who  'd 
be  glad  to  be  taken  care  of  as  you  '11  be.  Only  think  of  it ! 
Here  's  a  beautiful  diamond  ring  for  you.  And  here  's  a  check 
for  five  hundred  dollars  for  you  to  spend  in  dresses,  and  you  're 
to  have  the  selecting  of  them  all  yourself,  —  think  of  that !  — 
under  my  superintendence  of  course  ;  but  Madame  Groux  tells 
me  your  taste  is  excellent,  and  I  shall  not  interfere.  'T  is  now 
nine  o'clock.  We  '11  drive  out  this  very  forenoon  to  see  what 
there  is  in  the  shops  ;  for  IMr.  Ratcliff  may  be  here  any  hour 
now.  Run  and  get  ready,  that 's  a  good  girl.  The  carriage 
shall  be  here  at  half  past  ten." 

Without  touching,  or  even  looking  at,  the  ring,  Clai'a  ran  up- 
stairs to  her  room,  and,  locking  the  door,  knelt,  with  flushed, 
burning  brow  and  brain,  at  a  little  prie-dieu  in  the  corner.  She 
did  not  try  to  put  her  prayer  in  words,  for  the  emotions  which 
swelled  within  her  bosom  were  all  unspeakable.  Clara  was 
intellectually  a  mystic,  but  the  current  of  her  individualism 
was  too  strong  to  be  diverted  from  its  course  by  ordinary  influ- 
ences, whether  from  spirits  in  or  out  of  the  flesh.  She  was 
too  positive  to  be  constrained  by  other  impulses  than  those 
which  her  own  will,  enlightened  by  her  own  reason,  had  gener- 
ated. So,  while  she  felt  assured  that  angelic  witnesses  were 
round  about  her,  and  that  her  every  thought  "  had  a  critic  in 
the  skies,"  —  and  while  she  believed  that,  in  one  sense,  nothing 
of  mind  or  body  was  truly  her  own,  —  that  she  was  but  a  vessel 
or  recipient,  —  she  keenly  experienced  the  consciousness  that 


THE  WHITE  SLAVE.  197 

she  was  a  free,  responsible  agent.  O  mystery  beyond  all 
fathoming !  O  reconcilement  of  contrarieties  which  only  Om- 
nipotence could  eflfect,  and  only  Omnipotence  can  exjjlain ! 

She  paced  the  floor  of  her  little  room,  —  looked  her  situation 
unflinchingly  in  the  face,  —  and  resolved,  with  God's  help,  to 
gird  herself  for  the  strife.  Her  unknown  benefactor,  whom  her 
imagination  had  so  exalted,  ah  !  how  poor  a  thing,  hollow  and 
corrupt,  he  had  proved !  Could  she  ever  forgive  the  man  who 
had  dared  claim  her  as  his  slave  ? 

And  yet  might  she  not  misjudge  him?  Might  he  not  be 
plotting  some  generous  surprise?  She  recalled  a  single  ex- 
pression of  his  face,  and  felt  satisfied  she  did  him  no  injustice. 
How  hateful  now  seemed  all  those  accomplishments  she  had 
acquired  !     They  were  but  the  gilding  of  an  abhorred  chain. 

In  the  midst  of  her  whirling  thoughts,  her  mocking-bii'd, 
which  had  been  pecking  at  some  crumbs  in  his  cage,  burst  into 
such  a  wild  jubilate  of  song,  that  Clara's  attention  was  with- 
drawn for  a  moment  even  from  her  own  great  grief.  Openino- 
the  door  of  the  cage,  she  said :  "  Come,  Dainty,  you  too  shall 
be  free*.  The  window  is  open.  Go  find  a  pleasant  home 
among  the  trees  and  on  the  plantations." 

The  bird  flew  about  her  head,  and  alighted  on  her  forefinger, 
as  it  had  been  accustomed.  Clara  pressed  the  down  of  its  neck 
to  her  cheek,  and  then,  taking  the  little  songster  to  the  window, 
threw  it  off  her  finger.  Dainty  flew  back  into  the  room,  and, 
alighting  on  Clara's  head,  pecked  at  her  hair. 

"  Naughty  Dainty  !  Good  by,  my  pet !  We  must  part. 
Freedom  is  best  for  both  you  and  me."  And,  putting  her  head 
out  of  the  window,  Clara  brushed  Dainty  off  into  the  auy  void, 
and  closed  the  glass  against  the  bird's  return. 

She  now  summoned  Esha,  and  said :  "  Esha,  we  Ve  often 
wondered  as  to  my  true  place  in  the  world.  The  mystery  is 
solved  to-day.     Mrs.  Gentry  informs  me  I  'm  a  slave." 

"  What !  Wha-a-a-t !  You  ?  You,  too,  a  slabe  ?  My  little 
darlin'  a  slabe  ?     O,  de  good  Lord  in  hebbn  won't  'low  dat ! " 

"  We  've  but  a  moment  for  talk,  Esha.  Help  me  to  act. 
My  o\vner  (owner !)  may  be  here  any  minute." 

"  Who  am  dat  owner  ?  " 

"Mr.  Carberry  RatcUff." 


198  PKCULIAR. 

"No,  —  no,  —  no!  Not  dat  man  !  Not  him!  De  Lord  help 
de  dure  cliile  if  dat  born  debble  wunst  git  hole  ob  her ! " 

"  What  do  you  know  of  him  ?  " 

"  He  war  de  cruel  massa  ob  dat  slabe  gal  whom  you  hab  de 
hair  ob  in  yer  bosom." 

"  I  'm  glad  of  it !  "  cried  Clara,  throwing  her  clenched  hand 
in  the  air,  and  looking  up  as  if  to  have  the  heavens  hear  her. 

"  O,  darlin'  chile,  what  am  dar  ole  Esha  kn  do  for  her  ?  " 

Clara  stopped  short,  and,  pressing  both  hands  on  her  fore- 
head, stood  as  if  calling  her  best  thoughts  to  a  council  of  war, 
and  then  said,  "  Can  you  get  me  a  small  valise,  Esha  ?  " 

"  Hab  a  carpet-bag  I  kn  gib  her.  You  jes  wait  one  minute." 
And  Esha  returned  with  the  desired  article. 

"  Now  help  me  pack  it  with  the  things  I  shall  most  need. 
Mrs.  Gentry  expects  me  soon  to  go  a-shopping  with  her. 
When  she  calls  for  me,  I  shaU  be  missing.  I  've  not  yet  made 
up  my  mind  where  to  go.  I  shall  think  on  that  as  I  walk 
along.     Wliat  's  the  matter,  Esha  ?     What  do  you  stare  at  ?  " 

"  Look  dai' !     What  yer  see  dar,  darlin'  ?  " 

"  A  pair  of  little  sleeve-buttons.  How  pretty  !  Gold  with 
a  setting  of  coral.     And  on  the  inside,  in  tiny  letters,  C.  A.  B." 

"  Wall,  dat 's  de  'stonishin'est  ting  I  'ze  seen  dis  many  a  day. 
Ten  —  no,  'lebben  —  no,  fourteen  yars  ago,  as  I  war  emptyin' 
suds  out  ob  de  wash-tub,  I  see  dese  little  buttons  shinin'  on 
de  groun'.  'T  was  de  Monday  arter  you  was  browt  here. 
Your  little  underdose  had  been  in  de  wash.  So  what  does  I 
do  but  put  de  buttons  in  my  pocket,  tinkin'  I  'd  gib  'em  ter 
missis  ter  keep  fiir  yer.  But  whan  I  look  for  'em,  dey  was 
clean  gone,  —  could  n't  fine  'em  nowhar.  So  I  say  noting  t'  all 
'bout  it.  Jes  now,  as  I  tuk  up  fro'  my  trunk  a  little  muslin 
collar  dat  de  dare  saint  I  tell  yer  'bout  used  ter  wear,  what 
sh'd  drop  from  de  ibles  but  dis  same  little  pair  ob  buttons  dat  I 
hab'nt  seen  fur  all  dese  yars.  Take  'em,  darhn',  fur  dey  'long 
ter  you  an'  ter  nobody  else." 

''  Thank  you,  Esha.  I  '11  keep  them  -with  my  other  treas- 
ures " ;  and  Clara  fastened  them  with  a  pin  to  the  piece  of 
bunting  in  her  bosom.  "  And  now,  good  by.  Pray  for  me, 
Esha." 

"  Night  and  day,  darlin'.     But  Esha  mus  gib  suffu  more  'n 


THE  WHITE  SLAVE.  199 

prayers.     Take  dese  twenty  dollars  in  gold,  darlin'.     Yer  '11 
want  'em,  sure.     Don't  'fuze  'em." 

"  How  long  have  you  been  saving  up  this  money,  Esha  ?  " 

"  Bress  de  chile,  only  tree  muntz.  Dat  's  nuffn.  You  jes 
take  'em.  Dai- !  Dat 's  right.  Tie  'em  up  safe  in  de  corner 
ob  yer  hankerchy." 

"  But,  Esha,  you  may  not  be  paid  back  till  you  get  to 
heaven."  And  Clara  put  on  her  bonnet,  and  spoke  rapidly  to 
choke  do^vn  a  sob. 

"  So  much  de  better.  Dar !  Put  'em  safe  in  yer  pocket. 
Dat's  a  good  chile." 

Fearing  a  refusal  would  only  grieve  the  old  woman,  Clara 
received  and  put  away  the  gold-pieces.  Then,  closing  the 
sprmg  of  the  carpet-bag,  she  kissed  Esha,  and  said,  « If  they 
inquire  for  me,  balk  them  as  well  as  you  can." 

"  Leeb  me  alone  fur  dat,  darlin'.  An'  now  yer  mus'  go.  De 
Lord  an'  his  proppet  bless  yer !  Allah  keep  yer  !  De  madder 
ob  God  watch  ober  yer !  " 

In  these  ejaculations  Esha  would  hardly  have  been  held  as 
orthodox  either  by  a  mufti  or  a  D.  D.  But  what  if,  in  the  bal- 
ance of  the  All-Seeing,  the  sincere  heart  should  outweigh  the 
speculative  head?  Poor  old  Esha  was  Mahometan  through 
reverence  for  her  father ;  Catholic  through  influences  from  the 
family  with  whom  she  lived  when  a  child;  and  Protestant 
through  knowedge  of  many  good  men  and  women  of  that  faith. 
She  cared  not  how  many  saints  there  were  in  her  calendar. 
Tlie  more  the  merrier.  All  goodness  in  man  or  woman,  of 
whatever  race  or  sect,  was  deified  in  her  simple  and  semi- 
barbarous  conceptions.  Poor,  ignorant,  sinful,  unregenerate 
creature ! 

"  God  bless  you,  Esha !  "  said  Clara.  "  Look !  There  is 
poor  Dainty  perched  on  the  window-sill.  Plainly  he  is  no 
Abolitionist.  He  prefers  slavery.  Take  care  of  him." 
"  Dat  I  will,  if  only  for  your  sake,  darlin'." 
And  the  old  woman  let  the  bird  in  and  closed  the  window ; 
and  then  —  her  bronzed  face  wet  with  tears  —  she  conducted 
Clara  to  a  back  door  of  the  house,  from  which  the  fugitive  could 
issue,  without  being  observed,  into  an  obscure  carriage-way. 


200  PECULIAR. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

ENCOUNTERS  AT  THE  ST.  CHARLES. 

"  Hail,  year  of  God's  farming  !  Hail,  summer  of  an  emancipated  contineDt,  which 
shall  lay  up  in  storehouse  and  barn  the  great  truths  that  were  worth  the  costly  dressing 
of  a  people's  blood  !  "  — iJci;.  John  Weiss. 

IN  one  of  the  rooms  of  the  St.  Charles  Hotel  in  New  Orleans 
a  man  sat  meditating.  The  windows  looked  out  on  a  street 
where  soldiers  were  going  through  their  drill  amid  occasional 
shouts  from  by-standers.  As  the  noise  gi-ew  louder,  the  man 
rose  and  went  to  a  window.  He  was  hardly  above  the  middle 
stature,  slim  and  compact,  but  as  lithe  as  if  jointed  like  an  eel. 
His  hair  was  sUghtly  streaked  with  gi'ay.  His  features,  though 
not  full,  spoke  health,  vigor,  and  pure  habits  of  life ;  while  his 
white,  well-preserved  teeth,  neatly  trimmed  beard,  and  well-cut, 
well-adjusted  clothes  showed  that,  as  he  left  his  youth  behind 
him,  his  attention  to  his  personal  appearance  did  not  decrease. 
Fourteen  years  had  made  but  little  change  in  Vance.  It  had 
not  tamed  the  fire  of  his  eyes  nor  slackened  the  alertness  of 
his  tread. 

As  he  caught  sight  of  the  "  stars  and  bars  "  wavmg  in  the 
spring  sunlight  an  expression  of  scorn  was  emitted  in  his 
frown,  and  he  exclaimed :  ''  Detested  rag !  I  shall  yet  hve  to 
trample  you  in  the  dirt  on  that  very  spot  where  you  now 
flaunt  so  bravely.  Shout  on,  poor  fools !  Continue,  ye  un- 
reasoning cattle,  to  crop  the  flowery  food,  and  lick  the  hand 
just  raised  to  shed  your  blood.  And  you,  too,  leaders  of  the 
rank  and  file,  led,  in  yom-  turn,  by  South  Carolina  fire-eaters, 
go  on  and  overtake  that  fate  denounced  by  the  prophet  on  evil- 
doers. Hug  the  strong  delusion  and  believe  the  lie !  Declare, 
with  the  smatterers  of  the  Richmond  press,  that  Christian  civ- 
ilization is  a  mistake,  and  that  the  new  Confederacy  is  a  God- 
sent  missionary  to  the  nations  to  teach  them  that  pollution  is 
purity,  and  incest  a  boon  from  heaven.  The  time  is  not  far 
distant  when  you  shall  leam  how  far  the  Eternal  Powers  are 
the  allies  of  human  laziness,  arrogance,  and  lust  I " 


ENCOUNTERS  AT  THE  ST.  CHARLES.        201 

Suddenly  the  soliloquist  seemed  struck  by  the  appearance 
of  some  one  in  the  crowd ;  for,  taking  from  his  pocket  an  opera- 
glass,  and  regulating  the  focus,  he  looked  through  it,  then  mut- 
tered :  "  Yes,  it  is  he  !  Poor  maggot !  What  haughtiness  in 
his  look ! " 

Just  then  a  man  on  horseback,  in  the  di*ess  of  a  civilian, 
and  followed  by  a  slave,  also  mounted,  rode  forward  nearer  to 
where  Vance  sat  at  his  window.  A  multitude  gathered  round 
the  foremost  equestrian,  and  called  for  a  speech.  "  The  Kun- 
nle  is  jest  frum  South  Kerlinay,"  exclaimed  a  swarthy  inebri- 
ate, who  seemed  to  be  spokesman  for  the  mob.  "  A  speech 
frum  Kunnle  Ratcliff !     Hoorray  !  " 

Ratcliflf,  with  a  gesture  of  annoyance,  rose  in  his  stirrups, 
and  said :  "  Friends,  I  've  nothing  to  tttll  you  that  you  can't 
find  better  told  in  the  newspapers.  This  is  no  time  for  talk. 
We  want  action  now.  All  's  right  at  Charleston.  Sumter 
has  fallen.  That's  the  first  great  step.  The  Yankees  may 
bluster,  but  they  '11  never  fight.  The  meanest  white  man  at 
the  South  is  more  than  a  match  for  any  five  Yankees.  We  '11 
have  them  begging  to  be  let  into  our  Southern  Confederacy 
before  Chi-istmas.  But  Ave  won't  receive  'em.  No  !  As  Jeff 
Davis  well  says,  sooner  hyenas  than  Yankees  !  But  we  must 
whip  them  into  decency.  And  so,  before  the  next  Fourth  of 
July,  we  mean  to  have  our  flag  flying  over  Faneuil  Hall.  We 
are  the  master  race,  my  friends !  We  must  show  these  nigger 
stealing,  beggarly  Yankees  that  they  must  stand  cap  in  hand 
when  they  venture  to  come  into  our  presence.  Don't  beheve 
the  croakers  who  tell  you  slavery  will  be  weakened  by  seces- 
sion. It 's  going  to  be  strengthened.  So  convinced  am  I  of 
it,  that  I  've  doubled  my  number  of  slaves  ;  and  if  any  of  you 
wish  to  sell,  bring  on  your  niggers  !  Do  you  see  that  flag  ? 
Well,  that  flag  has  got  to  wave  over  all  Mexico,  Cuba,  and 
Central  America.  In  five  years  from  now  every  man  of  you 
shall  own  his  score  of  niggers  and  his  hundred  acres  of  land. 
So  go  ahead,  and  aim  low  when  you  sight  a  Yankee." 

The  speech  was  received  with  cheers,  and  Ratcliff  stai-ted  his 

horse  ;  but  the  leading  loafer  of  the  crowd  seized  the  reins,  and 

said :  "  Can't  let  yer  off  so,  Kunnle,  —  can't  no  how  you  kun 

fix  it.    We  want  a  reg'lar  game  speech,  sich  as  you  kun  make 

9* 


202  PECULIAR. 

when  you  dam  please.      So  fire  up,  and   do    your  prettiest. 
Be  n't  we  the  master  race  ?  " 

"  Pshaw !  Let  go  those  rehis,"  said  Ratcliff,  cutting  the 
vagabond  over  his  face  with  the  but-end  of  a  riding-whip. 

The  crowd  laughed,  and  the  loafer,  astonished  and  sobered, 
dropped  the  reins,  and  put  his  hand  to  his  eye,  which  had  been 
badly  liit.    Ratcliff  rode  on,  but  a  muttered  curse  went  after  him. 

Seeing  the  loafer  stand  feeling  of  his  eye  as  if  had  been  hurt, 
Vance  said  to  him  from  the  window  :  "  Go  to  the  apothecary's, 
and  tell  him  to  give  you  something  to  bathe  it  in." 

"  Go  ter  the  'pothecary's  !  With  nary  a  red  in  my  pocket ! 
Strannger,  don't  try  to  fool  this  child." 

"  Here  's  money,  if  you  want  it." 

"  Money  ?     I  should  like  ter  see  the  color  of  it,  strannger." 

"Hold  your  hat,  then." 

And  Vance  di'opped  into  the  hat  something  wrapped  in  a 
newspaper  which  the  loafer  incredulously  unfolded.  Finding  in 
it  a  five-dollar  gold-piece,  he  stared  first  at  the  money,  then  at 
Vance,  and  said :  "  Strannger,  I  'd  say,  God  bless  yer,  if  I 
did  n't  thmk,  what  a  poor  cuss  like  I  could  say  would  rayther 
harm  than  help.  Have  n't  no  influence  with  God  A'mighty, 
strannger.  But  you're  a  man,  —  you  air,  —  not  a  sneakin' 
'ristoci-at  as  despises  a  poor  white  feller  more  'n  he  does  a 
nigger.     I  've  seen  yer  somewhar  afore,  but  can 't  say  whar." 

"  Go  and  attend  to  your  eye,  my  friend,"  said  Vance. 

"  I  will.   An'  if  ever  I  kun  do  yer  a  good  turn,  jes  call  on " 

Vance  could  not  hear  the  name;  but  he  bowed,  and  the 
loafer  moved  on.  Looking  in  another  direction,  Vance  saw 
Eatcliff  dismount,  throw  the  reins  to  his  attendant,  and  disap- 
pear in  a  vestibule  of  the  hotel.  Vance  rose  and  wildly  paced 
the  room.  His  whole  frame  quivered  to  the  very  tips  of  his 
fingers,  which  he  stretched  forth  as  if  to  clutch  some  invisible 
antagonist.  He  muttered  incoherent  words,  and,  smiting  his 
brow^  as  if  to  keep  back  thoughts  that  struggled  too  tumultu- 
ously  for  expression,  cried :  "  O  that  I  had  him  here,  —  here, 
face  to  face,  —  weaponless,  both  of  us  !  "Would  I  not  —  The 
merciless  villain !  The  cowardly  miscreant !  To  lash  a  wo- 
man !  That  moment  of  horror  !  Often  as  I  've  lived  it  over, 
it  is  ever  new.    Can  eternity  make  it  fade  ?    Again  I  see  her,  — 


ENCOUNTEKS  AT  THE  ST.  CHARLES.        203 

pale,  very  pule  and  bleeding,  —  and  tied,  —  tied  to  the  stake. 
O  Ratclift"!  Wlien  shall  this  bridled  vengeance  overtake  thee  ? 
Pshaw  !  What  is  he,  —  an  individual,  —  what  is  the  sum  of 
pain  that  he  can  suffer  ?  Would  that  be  a  requital  ?  Will  not 
his  own  devices  work  better  for  me  than  aught  /can  do?  " 

Seating  himself  in  an  arm-chair,  Vance  calmed  his  vindictive 
thoughts.  In  memory  he  went  back  to  that  day  when  he  first 
heard  Estelle  sing ;  then  to  their  fii-st  evening  in  Mrs.  Mallet's 
little  house;  then  to  the  old  magnoHa-tree  before  it.  That 
house  he  had  bought  and  given  in  keeping  to  Mrs.  Bernard,  a 
married  granddaughter  of  old  Leroux,  the  Frenchman.  Every 
tree  and  shrub  in  the  area  had  been  reverently  cared  for.  Had 
not  Estelle  plucked  blossoms  from  them  all  ? 

He  thought  of  his  marriage,  —  of  his  pleasant  walks  with 

Estelle  in  Jackson  Square, —  of  their  musical  enjoyments, of 

all  her  little  devices  to  minister  to  his  comfort  and  deHght, 

and  then  of  the  sudden  clouding  of  tliis  brief  but  most  exquisite 
sunshine. 

Vance  took  from  the  pocket  of  his  vest  a  little  circulai*  box 
of  rosewood.  Unscrewing  the  cover,  he  revealed  a  photograph 
of  Estelle,  taken  after  her  marriage.  There  was  such  a  smile 
on  the  comitenance  as  only  the  supreme  happiness  of  a  loving 
heart  could  have  created.  On  the  opposite  circle  was  a  curl  of 
her  hair  of  that  strangely  beautiful  neutral  tint  which  Vance  had 
often  admired.  This  he  pressed  to  his  lips.  "  Dear  saint,"  he 
murinured,  "  I  have  not  forgotten  thy  parting  words.  For  thy 
sake  will  I  wrestle  with  this  spirit  that  would  seek  a  'pdUry 
revenge.  Thy  smile,  O  my  beloved  !  shall  dispel  the  remem- 
brance of  thy  agony,  and  thy  love  shall  conquer  all  earth-bom 
hate.  For  thy  dear  sake  will  I  still  cahnly  meet  thy  murderer. 
O,  lend  me  of  thy  divine  patience  to  endm-e  his  presence ! 
Sweet  child,  affectionate  and  pure,  I  can  dream  of  nothing  in 
heaven  more  precious  than  thyself  If  from  thee,  0  my  be- 
loved !  come  this  spiritual  refreshing  and  reinforcement,  —  if 
from  thee  these  tender  influences,  so  bright  and  yet  so  gentle,  — 
then  must  thy  sphere  be  one  within  which  the  angels  delight  to 
come." 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door.  Vance  shut  the  box,  re- 
placed it  in  his  pocket,  and  cried,  "  Come  in ! " 


204  PECULIAR. 

"  Colored  man  down  stars,  sar,  wants  to  see  yer." 

"  Did  he  give  his  name  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sar,  he  say  his  name  is  Jacobs." 

"  Show  him  up." 

A  negro  now  entered  wearing  green  spectacles,  and  a  wig  of 
gray  wool.  Across  his  cheek  there  was  a  scar.  No  sooner  was 
the  door  closed  upon  the  waiter,  than  Vance  exclaimed :  "  Is 
it  possible  ?     Can  this  be  you,  Peek  ?  " 

Peek  threw  off  his  disguises,  and  Vance  seized  him  by  the 
hand  as  he  might  have  seized  a  returning  brother. 

"  What  of  your  wdfe  and  child  ?     Have  you  found  'em  ?  " 

"No,  ]\Ir.  Vance,  I'm  still  a  wanderer  over  the  earth  in 
search  of  them.     I  shall  find  them  in  God's  good  time." 

"Sit   down,  Peek." 

"  Excuse  me,  iSIr.  Vance,  I  'd  rather  stand." 

"Very  well.     Then  I'll  stand  too." 

"  Since  you  make  it  a  point  of  politeness,  sir,  I  'U  sit." 

"That's  right.  And  now,  my  dear  fellow,  tell  me  what 
you  've  been  about  these  many  years.  Sm-ely  you  've  dis- 
covered some  traces  of  the  lost  ones?" 

"  None  that  have  been  of  much  use,  ]Mr.  Vance.  I  'm  satis- 
fied that  Flora  was  lured  on  to  Baltimore  by  some  party  who 
deceived  her  w^th  the  expectation  of  meeting  me  there.  From 
Baltimore  she  and  her  child  were  taken  to  Richmond  by  the 
agent  of  her  old  master,  and  sold  at  auction  to  a  dealer,  who 
soon  afterwards  died.     There  the  clew  breaks." 

"My  poor  Peek,  your  not  finding  her  has  probably  saved 
you  from  a  deeper  disappointment." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Mr.  Vance  ?  " 

"The  chance  is,  she  has  been  forced  to  marry  some  other 
man." 

"  I  know,  sir,  that  would  be  the  probability  in  the  case  of 
ninety-nine  slave-women  out  of  a  hundred.  But  Flora  once 
swore  to  me  on  the  crucifix,  she  would  be  true  to  me  or  die. 
And  I  feel  very  certain  she  will  keep  her  oath." 

"Ah!    slavery  is  so  crafty  and  remorseless  in  working  on 
human  passions,"  sighed  Vance.     "  But  you  are  right,  my  dear 
Peek,  in  hoping  on.     Tell  me  of  your  adventures."    ' 
•  "  When  you  and  I  parted  at  Memphis,  ^Mi'.  Vance,  I  went  U\ 


ENCOUNTERS  AT  THE  ST.   CHARLES.  205 

Montreal.  Flora  had  left  there  some  weeks  before.  At  New 
York  I  sought  out  Mr.  Charlton  ;  also  the  policemen.  But  I 
could  get  nothing  out  of  them.  At  length  a  Canadian  told  me 
he  had  met  Flora  on  board  the  Baltimore  boat.  I  followed  up 
the  clew  till  it  broke,  as  I  've  told  you.  Since  then  I  've  been 
seeking  my  wife  and  boy  through  all  the  Cotton  States.  The 
money  you  gave  me  from  Mr.  Berwick  lasted  me  seven  years  ; 
and  then  I  had  to  work  to  get  the  means  of  continuing  my 
search.  There  are  not  many  counties  in  the  Slave  States 
which  I  have  not  visited." 

"  During  your  travels,  Peek,  you  must  have  had  opportuni- 
ties of  helping  on  the  good  cause." 

"  Yes,  IVIr.  Vance.  I  needed  some  strong  motive  to  send  me 
fai'  and  wide  among  my  poor  brethren.  Without  it  I  might 
have  led  a  selfish  Hfe,  content  with  my  own  comforts.  But 
God  has  ordered  it  all  right.  I  bought  a  pass  as  an  old  slave 
preacher,  and  thus  was  able  to  visit  the  plantations,  and  estab- 
lish secret  societies  in  the  cause  of  freedom.  Give  the  slaves 
arms,  treat  them  like  men,  and  they  will  fight.  But  they  will 
not  rise  unarmed  in  useless  insurrection.  As  soon  as  the  North 
will  give  them  the  means  of  defending  their  freedom,  they  will 
break  their  fetters.  It  is  the  North,  and  not  the  South,  that 
now  holds  the  slave  in  check." 

"  Yes,  Peek ;  public  sentiment  is  almost  as  much  poisoned  at 
the  North  as  at  the  South,  by  this  slavery  virus." 

"  And  what  have  you^  sir,  been  about  all  these  years  ?  " 

"  Much  of  my  time  has  been  spent  in  Kansas.  I  've  been  a 
border  ruffian." 

"  A  sham  one,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Well,  Peek,  so  seriously  did  I  play  my  part,  that  perhaps 
I  shall  go  down  in  history  as  one  of  the  pro-slavery  leaders. 
John  Brown  of  Ossawatomie  would  at  one  time  have  shot  me 
on  sight.  He  afterwards  understood  me  better,  —  understood 
that,  if  I  fraternized  with  the  pro-slavery  crew,  it  was  to  thwart 
their  schemes.  The  rascals  were  continually  astounded  at  find- 
ing their  bloodiest  secrets  revealed  to  the  Abolitionists,  and 
little  suspected  that  one  of  their  most  trusted  advisers  was  the 
informer.  Yes !  I  helped  on  the  madness  which  God  sends 
to  those  he  means  to  destroy.      Baffled  in  California,  the  devil 


206  PECULIAR. 

of  slavery  set  his  heart  on  establishing  his  altars  in  Kansas. 
How  effectually  we  have  headed  him  off!  And  now  the  fren- 
zied idiot  wants  secession  and  a  slave  empire.  Heaven  forbid 
I  should  arrest  him  in  his  fatuity !     Let  me  rather  help  it  on." 

"  Are  you,  then,  a  secessionist,  IMr.  Vance  ?  " 

"  In  one  sense :  I  'm  for  secession  from  slavery  by  anniliilat- 
ing  it,  holding  on  to  the  Union.  I  was  at  the  gi-eat  Nashville 
convention.  I've  been  the  last  few  months  watching  things 
here  in  conservative  Louisiana.  She  will  have  to  follow  South 
Carolina.  That  Httle  vixen  among  States  cracks  the  over- 
seer's whip  over  our  heads,  and  threatens  us  with  her  sover- 
eign displeasui-e  for  our  timidity.  She  has  nearly  frightened 
poor  Governor  Moore  out  of  his  boots." 

"  I  've  been  thinking  much  lately,"  said  Peek,  "  of  our  ad- 
venture on  board  the  Pontiac.  What  ever  became  of  Colonel 
Delancy  Hyde  ?  " 

"  The  Colonel,"  replied  Vance,  "  for  a  time  wooed  fortune 
in  Kansas,  but  did  n't  vdn  her.     Since  then  I  've  lost  him." 

"  The  last  I  heard  of  him,"  said  Peek,  "  he  had  quarrelled 
with  a  fellow  at  a  cock-fight  in  Montgomery,  and  been  wound- 
ed ;  and  his  sister,  a  decent  woman,  was  tending  on  him." 

"  I  confess  I  've  a  weakness  for  the  Colonel,"  said  Vance, 
"  though  unquestionably  he  's  a  great  scoundrel." 

"  Did  you  ever  leai'n,  ]Mi\  Vance,  what  became  of  that  yellow 
girl  he  coveted  ?  " 

"  She  and  the  child  were  di'owned,"  was  the  reply. 

"  What  proof  of  that  did  you  ever  have"  ?  " 

"  My  fii'st  endeavor,  after  the  accident,"  said  Vance,  "  was 
to  serve  the  man  to  whom  I  had  owed  my  own  life ;  and  it  was 
not  till  I  saw  you  secure  from  Hyde,  and  your  scalds  taken 
care  of,  I  learnt  from  Judge  Onslow  that  the  Ber^dcks,  hus- 
band and  wife,  had  died  from  their  wounds." 

"  Were  their  bodies  ever  recovered  ?  " 

"  Those  of  the  husband  and  wife  I  saw  and  recognized.  But 
not  half  the  bodies  of  the  drowned  were  recovered,  bo  strong 
was  the  current.  It  was  not  surprising,  therefore,  that  the 
child  and  nurse  should  be  of  this  number.  Two  of  the  passen- 
gers testified  to  seeing  them  in  the  river,  —  tried  ineffectually 
to  save  them,  and  saw  them  go  under."  n 


ENCOUNTLRS  AT  THE  ST.   CHARLES.  207 

"  Did  you  ever  learn  who  those  passengers  were  ?  " 

"  No.  But  I  satisfied  myself,  so  far  as  I  could  from  human 
testimony,  that  the  child  was  not  among  the  saved.  Business 
called  me  suddenly  to  New  Orleans.     Why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  Excuse  me.  Were  you  never  summoned  as  a  witness  on 
the  trial  which  gave  Mr.  Charlton  the  Berwick  property  ?  " 

"  Never.  Perhaps  one  of  the  inconveniences  of  my  aliases 
is,  that  my  friends  do  not  often  know  where  to  find  me,  or  how 
to  address  me.     I  was  not  aware  there  had  been  a  trial." 

"  Nor  was  I,"  said  Peek,  "  until  a  few  weeks  ago.  At  the 
Exchange  Hotel  in  Montgomery,  I  waited  on  Captain  Ireton 
of  the  army,  who,  learning  that  I  had  had  dealings  with  Charl- 
ton, informed  me  that  his  (Ireton's)  grandfather  had  been  a 
party  to  a  lawsuit  growing  out  of  the  loss  of  the  Pontiac,  but 
that  the  case  had  been  decided  in  Charlton's  favor.  When 
Captain  Ireton  learned  that  I,  too,  had  been  on  the  Pontiac,  he 
put  me  many  questions,  in  the  course  of  which  I  learned  that 
the  evidence  as  to  the  death  of  the  child  and  her  nurse  rested 
solely  on  the  testimony  of  Colonel  Delancy  Hyde  and  his 
friend,  Leonidas  Quattles." 

Vance  started  up  and  paced  the  floor,  striking  both  palms 
against  his  forehead.  "  Dupe  and  fool  that  I  've  been  ! "  he 
exclaimed.  "Deep  as  I  thought  myself,  this  thick-skulled 
Hyde  has  been  deeper  still.  I've  been  outwitted  by  a  low 
rascal  and  blockliead.  In  all  my  talk  with  Hyde  about  the 
explosion,  he  never  intimated  to  me  that  he  had  ever  testified 
as  a  witness  in  a  suit  growing  out  of  the  accident.  Never 
would  he  have  kept  silent  on  such  a  point  if  he  had  n't  been 
guilty.  He  and  Quattles  and  Charlton !  What  possible  ras- 
caUty  might  not  have  been  hatched  among  the  three !  Of 
course  there  was  knavery  !  What  was  the  amount  of  property 
in  suit?" 

"  More  than  a  million  of  dollars,  —  so  Ireton  told  me." 

"A  million?  The  father  and  mother  dead,  —  then  prove 
that  the  child  —  But  stop.  I  'm  going  too  fast.  Hyde 
could  n't  have  been  interested  in  having  it  supposed  that  the 
child  was  dead.  How  could  he  have  known  about  the  Ber- 
wick property?" 

"  But  might  he  not  have  tried  to  kidnap  the  yellow  giii  ?  " 


208  PECULIAR. 

"  There  you  hit  it,  Peek  !  Dolt  that  I  've  been  not  to  think 
of  that !  I  remember  now  that  Plyde  once  said  to  me,  the 
yellow  girl  would  bring  sixteen  hundred  dollars  in  New  Or- 
leans. Well,  supposing  he  took  the  yellow  girl,  what  could  he 
do  with  the  white  child  ?  " 

"  Can  you,  of  all  men,  Mr.  Vance,  not  guess  ?  He  could 
sell  the  chUd  as  a  slave.  Or,  if  he  wanted  to  make  her  bring 
a  little  better  price,  he  could  tinge  her  skin  just  enough  to  give 
it  a  slight  golden  hue." 

Vance  wet  a  towel  in  iced  water,  and  pressed  it  on  his  fore- 
head. 

"  But  you  pierce  my  heart,  Peek,  by  the  bare  suggestion 
of  such  things,"  he  said.  "  That  poor  child  !  Clara  was  her 
name,  —  a  bright,  affectionate  little  lady  !  Should  Hyde  have 
given  false  testimony  in  regard  to  her  death,  I  shudder  to  think 
what  may  have  become  of  her.  She,  born  to  affluence,  may  be 
at  this  moment  a  wretched  menial,  or  worse,  a  trained  Cyprian, 
polluted,  body  and  soul.  Why  was  I  not  more  thorough  in  my 
investigations  ?  But  perhaps  't  is  not  too  late  to  prove  the  vil- 
lany,  if  villany  there  has  been." 

"  Hyde  may  be  able  to  put  you  on  the  right  track,"  sug- 
gested Peek. 

Vance  sat  down,  and  for  five  minutes  seemed  lost  in  medi- 
tation. Then,  starting  up,  he  said :  "  Where  would  you  next 
go  in  pursuit  of  your  wife  and  child  ?  " 

"  To  Texas,"  replied  Peek. 

"  To  Texas  you  shall  go.  Would  you  ventiu-e  to  face  Colonel 
Hyde?" 

"  With  these  green  goggles  I  would  face  any  of  my  old  mas- 
ters ;  and  the  scalds  upon  my  face  would  alone  prevent  my 
being  kno^m." 

"  I  can  get  you  a  pass  from  the  Mayor  himself,  so  that  you  'd 
not  be  molested.  Find  Hyde,  and  bring  him  to  me  at  any  cost. 
Money  will  do  it.     When  can  you  start  ?  " 

"  By  the  next  boat,  —  in  half  an  hour.** 

"  All  right.  Make  your  home  at  Bernard's  when  you  return; 
The  house  is  mine.  Here  's  the  direction.  Here  's  a  pass  from 
the  Mayor  which  I  've  filled  up  for  you.  And  here  's  money, 
which  you  need  n't  stop  to  count.     Good  by  ! " 


ENCOUNTERS  AT   THE   ST.    CHARLES.  209 

And,  with  a  grasp  of  the  hand,  they  parted,  and  Peek  quitted 
the  hotel  to  take  the  boat  for  Galveston. 

He  had  no  sooner  gone  than  Vance  went  down-stairs  to  the 
dining-hall.  Most  of  the  guests  had  finished  their  dinners  ;  but 
at  a  small  table  near  that  at  which  he  took  his  seat  were  a 
company  of  four,  lingering  over  the  dessert. 

Senator  Wigman,  a  puffy,  red-faced  man,  had  been  holding 
forth  on  the  prospective  glories  of  the  Confederacy. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  he,  refilling  his  glass  with  Burgundy,  "  with 
the  rest  of  the  world  w^e  '11  trade,  but  never,  never  with  the 
Yankees.  Not  one  pound  of  cotton  shall  ever  go  from  the 
Soutli  to  their  accursed  cities ; 'not  one  ounce  of  their  steel 
or  their  manufactures  shall  ever  cross  our  borders."  And  A¥ig- 
man  emptied  his  glass  at  a  single  gulp. 

"  Good  for  Wigman  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Robson,  a  round,  full- 
faced  young  man,  rather  fat,  and  wearing  gold-rimmed  specta- 
cles. "  But  what  about  Yankee  ice,  Wigman  ?  Will  you  de- 
prive us  of  that  also  ?  And  tell  me,  my  Wigman,  why  is  it 
that,  since  you  despise  these  Yankees  so  intensely,  you  allow 
your  children  to  remain  at  school  in  Massachusetts  ?  Is  n't 
that  a  little  inconsistent,  my  Wigman  ?  " 

Wigman  was  obliged  to  refill  his  glass  before  he  could  sum- 
mon his  thoughts  for  a  reply. 

"  Mr.  Robson,"  he  then  said,  "  you  're  a  scholar,  and  must 
be  aware  that  the  ancient  Spartans,  in  order  to  disgust  their 
children  with  intemperance,  used  to  make  their  slaves  drunk. 
If  I  send  my  children  among  the  Yankees,  it  is  that  they  may 
be  struck  by  the  superiority  of  the  Southern  character  when 
they  return  home." 

"  So  you  've  no  faith  in  the  old  maxim  touching  evil  com- 
munications," said  Robson,  taking  a  bottle  of  Champagne,  and 
easing  the  cork  so  as  to  send  it  to  the  ceiling  with  a  loud  pop. 
''  Now,  gentlemen,  bumpers  all  round !  Onslow,  let  me  fill 
your  glass  ;  Kenrick,  yours.  Drink  to  my  sentiment.  Here  's 
confusion  to  the  old  concern  ! " 

Vance  was  just  lifting  a  spoonful  to  his  lips  ;  but  he  returned 
it  to  his  plate  as  he  heard  the  name  of  Onslow,  and  looked 
round.  Yes,  it  was  surely  he  !  —  the  boy  of  the  Pontiac,  now 
a  handsome  youth  of  twenty-four.     On  his  right  sat  the  young 


210  PECULIAR. 

man  addressed  as  Kenrick.  At  the  latter  Vance  hardly  looked, 
so  intent  was  he  on  Onslow's  response. 

Wigman  spoke  first  Holding  up  his  glass,  and  amorously- 
eyeing  the  salmon  hue  of  the  wine,  he  exclaimed  :  "  Agreed  ! 
Here  's  confusion  to  the  old  con-hiccup-concern  ! " 

The  Senators  unfortunate  hiccup  elicited  inextinguishable 
laughter  from  the  rest,  until  Robson  rapped  with  the  handle 
of  his  knife  on  the  table,  and  cried :  '•  Order !  order !  Gen- 
tlemen, I  consider  that  man  a  sneaking  traitor  who  '11  not  get 
drunk  in  behalf  of  sentiments  like  those  our  friend  the  Senator 
has  been  uttering." 

"  Look  here,  young  man,  d^  you  mean  to  insinuate  that  I  'm 
getting  drunk,"  said  Wigman,  angrily. 

"  Far  from  it,  Wigman.  Any  one  can  see  you  're  not  getting 
drunk." 

"  I  accept  the  apology,"  said  Wigman,  with  maudlin  dignity. 

"  Well,  then,  gentlemen,"  cried  Robson,  "  now  for  the  pre- 
vious question  !     Confusion  to  the  old  concern  !  " 

Wigman  and  Onslow  drank  to  the  sentiment,  but  Kenrick, 
calling  a  negro  waiter,  handed  the  glass  to  him,  and  said : 
"  Throw  that  to  the  pigs,  and  biing  me  a  fresh  glass." 

"  HaUoo  !  What  the  deuce  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  "  cried 
Robson.  "  Have  we  a  Bourbon  among  us  ?  Have  we  a 
Yankee  sympathizer  among  us  ?  Is  it  possible  ?  Does  Mr. 
Charles  Kenrick  of  Kenrick,  son  of  Robert  Kenrick,  Esq., 
Confederate  M.  C,  and  heir  to  a  thousand  niggers,  refuse  to 
drink  to  the  downfall  of  Abolitionism,  and  those  other  isms 
against  which  we  've  di-a^vn  the  sword  and  flung  away  the 
scabbard  ?  " 

"  Yes,  by  Jove  ! "  interposed  Wigman.  "  And  we  '11  wel- 
come our  invaders  with  —  with — " 

"  With  bloody  hands  to  hospitable  graves,"  said  Robson. 
"  Speak  quick,  my  Wigman.  That 's  the  Southern  formula,  I 
believe,  invented,  like  the  new  song  of  Dixie,  by  an  imperti- 
nent Yankee.  It 's  devilish  hard  we  have  to  import  from 
these  blasted  Yankees  the  very  slang  and  music  we  turn 
against  them." 

"  Answer  me,  ISIr.  Charles  Kenrick,"  said  Wigman,  assum- 
ing a  front  of  judicial  severity,  "  did  you  mean  any  offence  to 


ENCOUNTERS  AT  THE  ST.  CHARLES.        211 

the  Confederacy  by  dishonoring  the  sentiment  of  hostility  to 
its  enemy  ?  " 

"  Damn  the  Confederacy  ! "  said  Kenrick. 

"  Hear  him,"  said  Robson.  "  Was  there  ever  such  blas- 
phemy ?  Please  write  it  down,  Onslow,  that  he  damns  the 
Confederacy.  And  write  Wigman  down  an  —  No  matter 
for  that  part  of  it !  We  shall  hear  Kem-ick  blaspheming 
slavery  by  and  by." 

"  Danm  slavery  ! "  said  Kenrick. 

"  Kenrick  is  joking,"  said  Onslow. 

"  Kenrick  was  never  more  serious  in  his  life,  Mr.  Onslow  ! " 

"  Look  here,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  Robson,  "  there  are  sanc- 
tities which  must  not  be  invaded,  even  under  the  privilege  of 
Champagne.  Insult  the  Virgin  Mary,  traduce  the  Holy  Tnn- 
ity,  profane  the  Holy  of  holies,  say  that  Jeff  Davis  is  n't  a 
remai-kable  man,  as  much  as  you  please,  but  beware  how  you 
speak  ill  of  the  peculiar  institution.  We  11  twist  the  noose  for 
you  with  a  pleased  alacrity  •  unless  you  retract  those  wicked 
words,  and  do  penance  in  two  tumblers  of  Heidsieck  drunk  in 
expiation  of  your  horrible  levity." 

"  Damn  slavery  !  "  reiterated  Kenrick. 

"  He  's  a  subject  for  the  Committee  of  Safety,"  suggested 
Wigman. 

"  Kenrick  is  playing  with  us  all  this  while,"  said  Onslow. 
"  Come  !  Confess  it,  old  schoolfellow  !  You  honor  the  new 
flag  as  much  as  I  do." 

"  1 11  show  you  how  much  I  honor  it,"  said  Kenrick ;  and, 
going  to  a  table  where  a  small  Confederate  flag  was  stuck  in  a 
leg  of  bacon,  he  tore  off  the  silken  emblem,  ripped  it  in  four 
parts,  and,  castmg  it  on  the  floor,  put  his  foot  on  the  fragments 
and  spat  on  them. 

Wigman  drew  a  smaU  bowie-knife  from  a  pocket  inside  of 
his  vest,  and,  starting  to  his  feet,  kicked  back  his  chair,  and 
ruslied  with  somewhat  tortuous  motion  towards  Kenrick ;  but, 
having  miscalculated  his  powers  of  equilibrium,  the  Senator  fell 
helplessly  on  the  floor,  and  dropped  his  knife.  Robson  kicked 
it  to  a  distant  part  of  the  room,  and,  helping  Wigman  to  his 
i^^i^  placed  him  in  his  chair,  and  counselled  him  not  to  try  it 
again. 


212  PECULIAR. 

"  It  is  to  me  that  IVIr.  Kenrick  must  answer  for  this  insult  to 
the  flag,"  said  Onslow. 

Kenrick  bowed.  Then,  resuming  his  seat,  he  took  a  fresh 
glass,  and,  filling  it  till  it  overflowed  with  Champagne,  rose  and 
exclaimed :  '•  The  Union  !  not  as  it  was,  but  as  it  shall  be,  with 
universal  freedom,  —  from  the  St.  Croix  to  the  Rio  Grande,  — 
from  Cape  Cod  to  the  Golden  Gate  ! "  Kenrick  touched  his 
lips  reverently  to  tlie  wine,  then  put  it  down,  and,  taking  from 
his  bosom  a  beautiful  American  flag  made  of  silk,  shook  it  out, 
and  said,  "  Here,  gentlemen,  is  my  religion." 

Onslow  made  a  snatch  at  it,  but  Kenrick  warded  off  his  grip, 
and,  folding  and  returning  the  flag  to  the  inner  pocket  of  his 
vest,  calmly  took  his  seat  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

All  this  while  Vance  had  been  gazing  on  Kenrick  intently, 
as  if  wrestling  in  thought  with  some  inexplicable  mystery. 
"  Strange  ! "  he  murmured.  "  The  very  counterpart  of  my 
own  person  as  I  was  at  twenty-three !  My  very  features  ! 
My  very  figure  !  The  very  color  of  my  hair  !  And  then,  — 
what  my  mother  often  told  me  was  a  Cai*teret  j^eculiarity,  — 
when  he  smiles,  that  fan-like  radiation  of  fine  wrinkles  under 
the  temples  from  the  outer  corner  of  the  eye  !  What  does  it 
all  mean  ?     I  know  of  no  relation  of  the  name  of  Kennck." 

"  I  shall  not  sit  at  table  with  a  traitor,"  cried  Onslow. 

"  Then  keep  standing  all  the  time,"  said  Kenrick. 

"  Nonsense !  I  thought  we  were  all  philosophei*s  in  this 
company,"  interposed  Robson,  who,  having  had  large  commer- 
cial dealings  with  the  elder  Kenrick,  was  in  no  mood  to  see 
the  son  harmed.  "  Sit  down,  Onslow !  Wigman,  keep  your 
seat.  Now,  waiter,  green  glasses  all  round,  and  a  bottle  of 
that  sparkling  Moselle.  They  '11  know  at  the  bar  what  I 
mean." 

Onslow  resumed  his  seat.  Wigman  stiffened  himself  up  and 
drew  nearer  to  the  table,  fired  at  the  prospect  of  a  fresh  bottle. 

At  this  juncture  Mr.  George  Sanderson,  a  Northern  man 
with  Southern  principles,  in  person  short,  vulgar,  and  flashily 
dressed,  the  very  heau  ideal  of  a  bar-room  rowdy,  having  heard 
the  clink  of  glasses,  and  sighted  from  the  corridor  an  array  of 
bottles,  was  seized  vfiih.  one  of  his  half-hourly  attacks  of  thirst- 
iness,  and  entered  to  join  the  party,  although  Wigmiin  was  the 


ENCOUNTERS   AT   THE    ST.    CHARLES.  ^    213 

only  one  he  knew.  The  latter  introduced  him  to  the  rest. 
Robson  uncorked  the  Moselle,  and  asked,  "  Now  that  Sumter 
has  fallen,  what 's  next  on  the  programme  ?  " 

''  AYashington  must  be  taken,"  said  Sanderson. 

"  We  nuist  winter  in  Philadelphia,"  said  Wigman. 

''  In  what  capacity  ?  As  conquerors  or  as  captives  ?  "  said 
Kenrick. 

"  Is  the  gentleman  at  all  shaky  ?  "  asked  Sanderson. 

"  He  has  been  shamming  Abolitionism,"  replied  Onslow. 

"  He  damns  slavery,"  cried  the  indignant  Wigman. 

"  He  's  sure  to  go  to  hell  for  that,"  said  Robson  ;  "  interces- 
sion can't  save  him.  He  has  committed  the  unpardonable  sin. 
The  Rev.  Dr.  Palmer  has  recently  made  researches  in  theology 
which  satisfy  himself  and  me  and  the  rest  of  the  saints,  that 
the  sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost  is  in  truth  nothing  less  than  to 
be  an  Abolitionist." 

"  What  is  your  private  opinion  of  the  Yankees,  IVIr.  Sander- 
son ?  "  asked  Kenrick.     "  Do  you  think  they  '11  fight  ?  " 

"  No,  sir-r-r.  Fifty  thousand  Confederates  could  walk  through 
the  Northern  States,  and  plant  their  colors  on  every  State  cap- 
ital north  of  Mason  and  Dixon's  line.  They  could  whip  any 
army  the  Yankees  could  bring  against  them." 

"  Then  you  think  the  Yankees  are  cowards,  eh  ?  " 

"  Compared  with  the  Southerners,  —  yes  ! "  said  Sanderson, 
holding  up  his  glass  for  the  waiter  to  refiU. 

"  His  opinion  is  that  of  an  expert.  He 's  himself  a  Yankee ! " 
cried  Robson. 

"  I  see  iSIr.  Sanderson  soars  far  above  the  spint  of  the  old 
proverb  touching  the  bird  that  fouls  its  nest,"  said  Kenrick. 

"  Order  ! "  cried  Robson.  "  Mr.  Sanderson  is  a  philosopher. 
He  disdains  vulgar  prejudices.  To  him  the  old  nest  is  straw 
and  mud,  and  the  old  flag  is  a  bit  of  bunting.  Is  n't  it  so, 
Sanderson  ?  " 

"  Exactly  so,"  said  Sanderson,  a  little  puzzled  by  Robson's 
persiflage,  and  seeking  relief  from  it  in  another  glass  of  wine. 
But,  finding  the  Moselle  bottle^  empty,  he  applied  himself  to  a 
decanter  labelled  Old  Monongahela. 

A  sudden  snore  from  Wigman,  who  had  fallen  asleep  in  his 
chair,  startled  the  party  once  more  into  laughter. 


214  PECULIAR. 

"  Happy  Wigman  ! "  said  Robson.  "  He  smiles.  He  is 
dreaming  of  slavery  extension  into  benighted,  slaveless  Mex- 
ico, —  of  Cuba  annexed,  and  her  stupidly  mild  slave-code 
reformed,  —  of  tawny-hued  houries,  metifs,  and  quarterooos 
fanning  him  while  he  reposes,  —  of  unnumbered  Yankees 
howling  over  their  lost  trade,  and  kneeling  vainly  for  help  to 
liim,  —  to  Wigman  !  Profound  Wigman  !  Behold  the  great 
man  asleep  !  Happy  Texas  in  having  such  a  representative  ! 
Happy  Jeff  Davis  in  having  such  a  counsellpr !  Gentlemen, 
my  feelings  grow  too  eflfusive.  I  must  leave  you.  The  din- 
ner has  been  good.  The  wine  has  been  good.  I  must  make 
one  criticism,  however.  The  young  gentlemen  are  degenerate. 
They  do  not  drink.  Look  at  them.  They  are  perfectly  sober. 
What  is  the  world  coming  to  ?  At  our  hotels,  where  twenty 
years  ago  we  used  to  see  fifty  —  yes,  a  hundred  —  champagne 
bottles  on  the  dinner-table,  we  now  don't  see  ten.  And  yet 
men  talk  of  the  progress  of  the  age  !  'T  is  all  a  delusion. 
The  day  of  juleps  has  gone  by.  We  are  receding  in  civiliza 
tion.  Wigman  is  a  type  of  the  good  old  times,  —  a  landmark, 
a  pattern  for  the  rising  generation.  To  his  immortal  honor  be 
it  recorded,  that  after  that  most  heroic  achievement  of  this  or 
any  other  age,  the  subjugation  of  Anderson's  little  starving 
garrison  in  Sumter  by  Beauregard,  Wigman  started  in  a  small 
boat  for  the  fort.  Wigman  landed.  Wigman  was  the  first  to 
land.  He  entered  one  of  the  bomb-proofs.  The  fii-st  thought 
of  a  vulgar  mind  would  have  been  to  fly  the  victorious  flag. 
Not  so  Wigman.  On  a  shelf  he  saw  a  bottle.  With  a  sub- 
lime self-abandonment  he  saw  nothing  else.  He  seized  it ;  he 
uncorked  it ;  he  di-ank  from  it.  And  it  was  not  till  he  had 
exhausted  the  last  drop,  that  he  learnt  from  the  surgeon  it  was 
poison.  O  posterity  !  don't  be  ungrateful  and  forget  this  pic- 
ture when  you  think  of  Sumter.  Our  Wigman  was  saved  to 
us  by  an  emetic.  Hand  him  down,  ye  future  Hildreths  and 
Motleys  of  America.  Unconscious  Wigman !  He  responds 
with  another  rhoncus.  ]\lr.  Sanderson,  I  leave  him  to  your 
generous  care.  Gentlemen,  good  by  !  "  And  without  waiting 
for  a  reply,  Robson  received  his  hat  from  the  attentive  waiter, 
waved  a  bow  to  the  party,  and  waddled  out  of  the  hall. 

Mr.  Sanderson,  seeing  that  a  bottle  of  Chateau  Margaux 


ENCOUNTERS   AT   THE   ST.    CHARLES.  215 

was  but  half  emptied,  sighed  that  he  had  not  detected  it  sooner. 
Filling  a  goblet  with  the  purple  fluid,  he  drained  it  in  long  and 
appreciative  draughts,  rolling  the  smooth  juice  over  his  tongue, 
and  carefully  savoring  the  bouquet.  Having  emptied  this  bot- 
tle, he  sighted  another  nearly  two  thirds  full  of  champagne. 
Sanderson  felt  a  pang  at  the  thought  that  there  was  a  limit  to 
man's  ability  to  quaff  good  liquor.  He,  however,  went  up  to 
the  attack  bravely,  and  succeeded  in  disposing  of  two  full  tum- 
blers. Then  a  spirit  of  meek  content  at  his  bibulous  achieve- 
ments seemed  to  come  over  him.  He  put  his  thumbs  in  the 
arm-holes  of  his  vest,  leaned  back,  and  benignantly  said,  "  This 
warm  weather  has  made  me  a  trifle  thirsty." 

Wigman  suddenly  started  from  his  sleep,  wakened  by  the 
cessation  of  noise.  Sanderson  rose,  and  assisted  the  Senator 
to  his  feet.  "  Come,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  he,  "  it 's  time  to 
adjourn.  Good  by,  young  gentlemen  ! "  And  arm-in  arm  the 
two  worthies  staggered  out  of  the  hall,  each  under  the  impres- 
sion that  the  other  was  the  worse  for  liquor,  and  each  affec- 
tionately counselling  the  other  not  to  expose  himself. 

Vance  still  sat  at  his  table,  and  from  behind  a  newspaper 
glanced  occasionally  at  the  two  young  men  who  had  so  excited 
his  interest. 

"  Now,  Kemick,"  said  Onslow,  "  now  that  Robson  the 
impenetrable,  and  Wigman  the  windy,  and  Sanderson  the 
beastly,  are  out  of  the  way,  tell  me  what  you  mean  by  your 
incomprehensible  conduct.  When  we  met  at  table  to-day,  the 
first  time  for  five  years,  I  did  not  dream  that  you  were  other 
than  you  used  to  be,  the  enthusiastic  champion  of  the  South 
and  its  institutions." 

*'  You  wonder,"  replied  Kenrick,  "  that  I  should  express  my 
detestation  of  the  Rebellion  and  its  cause,  —  of  the  Confederacy 
and  its  corner-stone,  —  that  I  should  differ  from  my  father,  who 
believes  in  slavery.  How  much  more  reasonably  might  I 
wonder  at  your  apostasy  from  truths  which  such  a  man  as 
your  father  holds  !  " 

"  My  father  is  an  honorable  man,  —  an  excellent  man," 
said  Onslow  ;  "  but  —  " 

"  But,"  interrupted  Kenrick,  "  if  you  were  sincere  just  now 
in  the  epithet  you  flung  at  me,  you  consider  him  also  a  traitor. 


216  PECULIAR. 

Now  a  traitor  is  one  who  betrays  a  trust.  Wliat  trust  has 
youi'  father  betrayed?" 

"  He  does  not  stand  by  his  native  State  in  her  secession 
from  the  old  Union,"  answered  Onslow. 

"  But  what  if  he  holds  that  his  duty  to  the  central  goveni- 
ment  is  paramount  to  his  duty  to  his  State  ?  "  asked  Kenrick. 

"  That  I  regard  as  an  error,"  replied  Onslow. 

"  Then  by  your  own  showing,"  said  Kenrick,  "  all  that  you 
call  fairly  say  is,  that  your  father  has  erred  in  judgment,  —  not 
that  he  has  been  guilty  of  a  base  act  of  treason." 

"No,  I  didn't  mean  that,  Charles,  —  your  pardon,"  said 
Onslow,  holding  out  his  hand. 

Kenrick  cordially  accepted  the  proffered  apology,  and  then 
asked :  "  May  I  speak  frankly  to  you,  Robert,  —  speak  as  I 
used  to  in  the  old  times  at  William  and  Mary's  ?  " 

"  Certainly.     Proceed." 

"  Your  father  literally  obeyed  the  Saviour's  injunction.  He 
gave  up  all  he  had,  to  foUow  where  truth  led.  Convinced 
that  slavery  was  a  wrong,  he  ruined  his  fortunes  in  the  attempt 
to  substitute  free  labor  for  that  of  slaves.  Through  the 
hostility  of  the  slave  interest  the  experiment  failed." 

"I  think,"  said  Onslow,  "my  father  acted  unwisely  in 
sacrificing  his  fortunes  to  an  abstraction." 

"  An  abstraction !  The  man  who  tries  to  undo  a  wrong  is 
an  abstractionist,  is  he?  "What  a  world  this  would  be  if  all 
men  would  be  guilty  of  similar  abstractions.  To  such  a  one 
I  would  say,  '  Master,  lead  on,  and  I  will  follow  thee,  to  the 
last  gasp,  with  truth  and  loyalty!'  Strange!  unaccountably 
strano-e,  that  his  own  son  should  have  deserted  him  for  the 
filthy  flesh-pots  of  slavery !  " 

"  May  not  good  men  differ  as  to  slavery  ?  "  asked  Onslow. 

"  Put  that  question,"  replied  Kenrick,  "  to  nine  tenths  of  the 
slaveholders,  —  men  in  favor  of  lynching,  torturing,  murdering, 
those  opposed  to  the  institution.  Put  it  to  INIr.  Carson,  who, 
the  other  day,  in  his  own  house,  shot  down  an  unai-med  and 
unsuspecting  visitor,  because  he  had  freely  expressed  views 
opposed  to  slavery.  Abolitionists  don't  hang  men  for  not 
believing  with  them,  —  do  they?  But  the  whole  code  and 
temper  of  the  South  reply  to  you,  that  men  may  not  differ, 


ENCOUNTERS  AT  THE  ST.  CHARLES.        217 

and  shall  not  differ,  on  the  subject  of  slavery.  Onslow,  give 
me  but  one  thing,  —  and  that  a  thing  guaranteed  by  the 
Constitution  of  the  United  States,  though  never  tolerated  in 
the  Slave  States,  —  give  me  libertt/  of  the  press  in  those  States, 
and  I,  as  a  friend  of  the  Union,  would  say  to  the  government 
at  Wasliington,  '  Put  by  the  sword.  Wait !  I  will  put  down 
tliis  rebelUon.  I  have  the  pen  and  the  press  !  Therefore  is 
slavery  doomed,  and  its  days  are  numbered.' " 

"  Why  is  it,"  asked  Onslow,  "  if  slavery  is  wrong,  that  you 
find  all  the  intelligence,  all  the  culture,  at  the  South,  and  even 
in  the  Border  States,  on  its  side  ?  " 

'I  Ah  !  there,"  replied  Kenrick,  "  there  's  the  sunken  rock  on 
which  you  and  many  other  young  men  have  made  wreck  of 
your  very  souls.  Your  sesthetic  has  superseded  your  moral 
natures.  To  work  is  in  such  shocking  bad  taste,  when  one  can 
make  others  work  for  one  !  " 

^  "  Nine  tenths  of  the  men  at  the  South  of  any  social  posi- 
tion," said  Onslow,  "  are  in  favor  of  secession." 

"  I  know  it,"  returned  Kenrick,  "  and  the  sadder  for  human 
nature  that  it  should  be  so!  In  IMissouri,  in  Kentucky,  in 
Virginia,  in  Baltunore,  all  the  young  men  who  would  be 
considered  fashionable,  all  who  thoughtlessly  or  heartlessly 
prize  more  their  social  status  than  they  do  justice  and  right, 
follow  the  lead  of  the  pro-slavery  aristocracy.  I  know  from 
experience  how  hard  it  is  to  break  loose  from  those  social  and 
family  ties.  But  I  thank  God  I  've  succeeded.  'T  was  Hke 
emerging  from  mepliitic  vapors  into  the  sweet  oxygen  of  a 
clear,  sun-bright  atmosphere,  that  hour  I  resolved  to ''take  my 
lot  with  freedom  and  the  right  against  slavery  and  the  wrong !  " 
"  How  was  your  conversion  effected  ?  "  asked  Onslow.  "  Did 
you  Ml  in  love  with  some  Yankee  schoolmistress  ?  I  was  n't 
aware  you  'd  been  living  at  the  North." 

"  I  've  never  set  foot  in  a  Free  State,"  replied  Kenrick.  "  My 
life  has  been  passed  here  in  Louisiana  on  my  father's  planta- 
tion. I  was  bred  a  slaveholder,  and  lived  one  after  the  most 
straitest  sect  of  our  religion  until  about  six  months  ago.  See 
at  the  trunkmaker's  my  learned  papers  in  De  Bow's^Review. 
They  're  entitled  '  Slave  Labor  versus  Free.'  Unfortunately  for 
my  admirers  and  disciples,  there  was  in  my  father's  Hbrary  a 
10 


218  PECULIAR. 

little  stray  volume  of  Channing's  writings  on  slavery.  I  read 
it  at  first  contemptuously,  then  attentively,  then  respectfully, 
and  at  last  lo\4ngly  and  prayerfully.  The  truth,  almost  insuf- 
ferably radiant,  poured  in  upon  me.  Convictions  were  heaved 
up  in  my  mind  like  volcanic  islands  out  of  the  sea.  I  was 
spiritually  magnetized  and  possessed." 

"  What  said  your  father  ?  " 

"  My  father  and  I  had  always  lived  more  as  companions  than 
as  sire  and  son.  There  is  only  a  difference  of  twenty-two 
yeai-s  in  our  ages.  My  own  mother,  a  very  beautiful  woman 
who  died  when  I  was  five  years  old,  was  six  years  older  than 
my  father.  From  her  I  derived  my  intellectual  peculiarities. 
Of  course  my  father  has  cast  me  off,  —  disowned,  disinherited 
me.  He  is  sincere  in  his  pro-slavery  fanaticism.  I  wish  I  could 
say  as  much  of  all  who  fall  in  with  the  popular  current." 

"  But  what  do  you  mean  to  do,  Charles  ?  'T  is  unsafe  for 
you  to  stay  here  in  New  Orleans,  holding  such  sentiments." 

"  My  plans  are  not  yet  matured,"  replied  Kenrick.  "  I  shall 
stand  by  the  old  flag,  you  may  be  sure  of  that.  And  I  shall 
liberate  all  the  slaves  I  can,  beginning  with  my  father's." 

"  You  would  not  fight  against  your  own  State  ?  " 

"  Incontinently  I  would  if  my  own  State  should  persist  in 
rebelhon  against  the  Union ;  and  so  I  would  fight  against  my 
own  county  should  that  rebel  against  the  State." 

"  Well,  schoolfellow,"  said  Onslow,  with  a  fascinating  frank- 
ness, "  let  us  reserve  our  quarrels  for  the  time  when  we  shall 
cross  swords  in  earnest.  That  time  may  come  sooner  than  we 
dream  of.  The  less  can  we  afford  to  say  bitter  things  to  each 
other  now.  Come,  and  let  me  introduce  you  to  a  charming 
young  lady.     How  long  do  you  stay  here?" 

"  Perhaps  a  week ;  perhaps  a  month." 

"  I  shall  watch  over  you  while  you  remain,  for  I  do  not 
fancy  seeing  my  old  crony  hung." 

"Better  so  than  be  false  to  the  light  within  me.  Though 
worms  destroy  this  body,  yet  in  my  flesh   shall  I  see  God." 

Onslow  made  no  reply,  but  affectionately,  almost  compas- 
sionately, took  Kenrick  by  the  arm  and  led  him  away. 

Vance  put  down  his  newspaper,  and  then,  immersed  in  med- 
itation, slowly  psissed  out  of  the  dining-hall  and  up-stairs  into 
his  own  room. 


A  MONSTER  OF  INGRATITUDE.  219 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

A  MONSTER   OF  INGRATITUDE. 

"  Faint  hearts  are  usually  false  hearts,  choosing  sin  rather  than  suflfering."  —  ArgyU^ 
before  his  execution. 

MRS.  GENTRY  had  attired  herself  in  her  new  spring 
costume,  a  feuillemorte  silk,  with  a  bonnet  trimmed  to 
match,  of  the  frightful  coal-hod  shape,  with  sable  roses  and  a 
bristling  ruche.  It  was  just  such  a  bonnet  as  Proserpine, 
Queen  of  the  Shades,  might  have  chosen  for  a  stroU  with  Pluto 
along  the  shore  of   Lake  Avernus. 

After  many  satisfactory  glances  m  the  mirror,  Mrs.  Gentry 
sat  down  and  trotted  her  right  foot  impatiently.  Tarquin,  en- 
tering, announced  the  carriage. 

"  Well,  go  to  JVIiss  Ellen,  and  ask  when  she  '11  be  ready." 

Five  minutes  Mrs.  Gentry  waited,  while  the  horses,  pestered 
by  stinging  insects,  dashed  their  hoofs  against  the  pavements. 
At  last  Tarquin  returned  with  the  report  that  Miss  Ellen's 
room  was  empty. 

"  Has  Pauline  looked  for  her  ?  " 

"  Yes,  missis." 

"  Ask  Esha  if  she  has  seen  her." 

Pauline,  standing  at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  put  the  ques- 
tion, and  Esha  replied  testily  from  the  kitchen :  "  Don't  know 
nuffin  'bout  her.  Hab  suffin  better  ter  do  dan  look  af 'r  aU  de 
school-gals  in  dis  house." 

Pauline  turned  from  the  old  heathen  in  despaii*,  and  sug- 
gested that  perhaps  Mss  Ellen  had  stepped  out  to  buy  a  ribbon 
or  some  hair-pins. 

]VIrs.  Gentry  waxed  angry.  « O,  but  she  '11  be  come  up 
with ! "  This  was  the  teacher's  favorite  form  of  consolation. 
The  Abolitionists  would  be  come  up  with.  Abe  Lincoln  would 
be  come  up  with.  General  Scott  would  be  come  up  wdth. 
Everybody  who  offended  Mrs.  Gentry  would  be  come  up  with, 
-^  if  not  in  this  world,  why  then  in  some  other. 


220  PECULIAR. 

An  hour  passed.  She  began  to  get  seriously  alarmed.  She 
sent  away  the  carriage.  Hardly  had  it  gone,  when  a  second 
vehicle  di-ew  up  before  the  door,  and  out  of  it  stepped  ]\Ir. 
Ratcliff.  She  met  him  in  the  parlor,  and,  fearing  to  tell  the 
truth,  merely  remai'ked,  that  Ellen  was  out  making  a  few  pur- 
chases. 

"  When  will  she  be  back  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  not  till  dinner-time." 

"  Then  I  '11  call  to-morrow  at  this  hour." 

]Mrs.  Gentry  passed  the  day  in  a  state  of  wretched  anxiety. 
She  sent  out  messengers.  She  interested  a  policeman  in  the 
search.  But  no  trace  of  the  fugitive  !  jNIrs.  Gentry  was  in 
despair.  If  Ellen  had  not  been  a  slave,  her  disappearance 
would  have  been  comparatively  a  small  matter.  If  it  had  been 
somebody's  free-born  daughter  who  had  absconded,  it  would  n't 
have  been  half  so  bad.  But  here  was  a  slave !  One  whose 
flight  would  lay  open  to  suspicion  the  teacher's  allegiance  to  the 
institution !  Intolerable  !  Of  course  it  was  no  concern  of  hers 
to  what  fate  that  slave  was  about  to  be  consigned. 

Ah !  sister  of  the  South,  —  (and  I  have  known  many,  the 
charms  of  whose  persons  and  manners  I  thought  incompai'able,) 
—  a  woman  whose  own  virtue  is  not  rooted  in  sand,  cannot,  if 
she  thinks  and  reasons,  fail  to  shudder  at  a  system  which  sends 
other  women,  perhaps  as  innocent  and  pure  as  she  herself,  to 
be  sold  to  brutal  men  at  auctions.  And  yet,  if  any  one  had 
told  Mrs.  Gentry  she  was  no  better  than  a  procuress,  both  she 
and  the  Rev.  Dr.  Palmer  would  have  thought  it  an  impious 
aspersion. 

At  the  appointed  hour  Ratcliff  appeared.  iVfe.  Gentry's 
toilet  that  day  was  appropriate  to  the  calamitous  occasion.  She 
was  dressed  in  a  black  silk  robe  intensely  flounced,  and  deco- 
rated around  the  bust  with  a  profluvium  of  black  lace  that  might 
have  melted  the  heart  of  a  Border-ruffian.  She  entered  the 
parlor,  tragically  shaking  out  a  pocket  handkerchief  with  an 
edging  of  black. 

"  O  Mr.  RatcHff !  Mr.  Ratcliff!  "  she  exclaimed,  rushing  for- 
ward, then  checking  herself  melodramatically,  and  seizing  the 
back  of  a  chaii*,  as  if  for  support. 

"  Well,  madam,  what 's  the  matter  ?  " 


A  MONSTER  OF  INGRATITUDE.  221 

"  That  lieailless,  —  that  ungrateful  girl !  " 
"What  of  her?" 

Mrs.  Gentry  answered  by  applying  her  handkerchief  to  her 
eyes  very  much  as  Mrs.  Siddons  used  to  do  in  Belvidera. 

''  Come,  madam,"  interrupted  Ratcliif,  "  my  time  is  precious. 
No  damned  nonsense,  if  you  please.  To  the  point.  What  has 
happened  ?  " 

Rudely  shocked  into  directness  by  these  words,  Mrs.  Gentry 
replied  :  "  She  has  disappeared,  —  r-r-run  away !  " 

"Damnation!"  was  Ratcliff's  concise  and  emphatic  com- 
ment. He  started  up  and  paced  the  room.  "  This  is  a 
damned  pretty  return  for  my  confidence,  madam." 

"  O,  she  '11  be  come  up  with,  —  she  '11  be  come  up  with ! " 
sobbed  Mrs.  Gentry. 

"  Come  up  with,  —  where  ?  " 
"  In  the  next  world,  if  not  in  this." 
"  Pooh  !     When  did  she  disappear  "i  " 

"  Yesterday,  wliile  I  was  waiting  for  her  to  go  out  to  buy 
her  new  dresses.     O  the  ingratitude ! " 
"  Have  you  made  no  search  for  her  ?  " 

"Yes,  I've  made  every  possible  inquiry.  I've  paid  ten 
dollars  to  a  police-officer  to  look  her  up.  O  the  ingratitude  of 
the  world  !     But  she  '11  be  come  up  with ! " 

"  Did  you  let  her  know  that  I  was  her  master  ?  " 
"  Yes,  't  was  only  yesterday  I  imparted  the  information." 
"  How  did  she  receive  it  ?  " 
^  "  She  was  a  little  startled  at  first,  but  soon  seemed  recon- 
ciled, even  pleased  with  the  idea  of  her  new  wardrobe." 
"  Have  you  closely  questioned  your  domestics  ?  " 
«  Yes.     They  know  nothing.     She  must  have  slipped  unob- 
served out  of  the  house." 

"Is  there  any  one  among  them  vdth  whom  she  was  more 
familiar  than  with  another  ?  " 

"  She  used  to  read  the  Bible  to  old  Esha,  by  my  direction." 
"  Call  up  old  Esha.     I  would  like  to  question  her." 
Esha  soon  appeared,  her  bronzed  face  glistening  with  per- 
spiration  from    the   kitchen   fire,  — the   never-faUhig  bright- 
.  colored  Madras  handkerchief  on  her  head. 

"  Esha,"  said  Mr.  RatclifF,  "  have  you  ever  seen  me  before  ?  " 


222  PECULIAR. 

'*  Yes,  Massa  Eatcliff,  of  n.  Lib'd  on  de  nex'  plantation  to 
youm.  I  'longed  to  Massa  Peters  wunst.  But  he  'm  dead 
and  gone." 

"  Do  you  know  what  an  oath  is,  Esha  ?  " 

**  Yes,  massa,  it 's  when  one  swar  he  know  dis  or  dunno  dat." 

"  Very  well.  Do  you  know  what  becomes  of  her  who  sweara 
falsely  ?  " 

"  0  yes,  massa ;  she  go  to  de  lake  of  brimstone  and  fire, 
whar'  she  hab  bad  time  for  eber  and  eber,  Amen." 

"  Are  you  a  Christian,  Esha  ?  " 

"  I  'ze  notin'  else,  Massa  Ratcliff." 

"  Well,  Esha,  here  's  the  Holy  Bible.  Take  it  in  your  left 
hand,  kiss  the  book,  and  then  hold  up  your  right  hand." 

Esha  went  through  the  required  form. 

"  You  do  solemnly  swear,  as  you  hope  to  be  saved  from  the 
torments  of  hell  through  all  eternity,  that  you  will  truly  an- 
swer, to  the  best  of  your  knowledge  and  belief,  the  questions  I 
may  put  to  you.  And  if  you  lie,  may  the  Lord  strike  you 
dead.     Now  kiss  the  book  again,  to  show  you  take  the  oath." 

Esha  kissed  the  book,  and  returned  it  to  the  table. 

"  Now,  then,  do  you  know  anytliing  of  the  disappearance  of 
this  girl,  Ellen  Murray?" 

"  Nuffin,  ma^sa,  nuffin  at  all." 

"  Did  she  ever  tell  you  she  meant  to  leave  this  house  ?  " 

"  Nebber,  massa !     She  nebber  tell  me  any  sich  ting." 

"  Did  she  have  any  talk  with  you  yesterday  ?  " 

"  Not  a  bressed  word  did  dat  chile  say  to  me  'cep  ter  scole 
me  'cause  I  did  n't  do  up  her  Organdy  muslin  nice  as  she 
'spected.  De  little  hateful  she-debble  !  How  can  dis  ole  nig 
do  eb'ry  ting  all  at  wunst,  and  do 't  well,  should  like  ter  know  ? 
It 's  cook  an'  wash  an'  ii'on,  an'  iron  an'  wash  an'  — " 

"  There  !     That  will  do,  Esha.     You  can  go." 

«  Yes,  Massa  RatcHff." 

Stealing  into  the  next  room,  Esha  listened  at  the  folding- 
dooi^. 

"  She  knows  nothing,  —  that 's  very  clear,"  said  Ratcliff. 
He  went  to  the  window,  and  looked  out  in  silence  a  full  minute ; 
then,  coming  back,  added  :  "  Stop  snivelling,  madam.  I  'm  not 
a  fool.     I've  seen  women  before  now.     This  girl   must   be 


A  MONSTER  OF  INGRATITUDE.  223 

found,  —  found  if  it  costs  me  ten  thousand  dollars.  And  you 
must  aid  in  the  search.  If  I  find  her,  —  well  and  good.  If  I 
don't  find  her,  you  shall  suffer  for  it.  This  is  what  I  mean  to 
do  :  I  shall  have  copies  of  her  photograph  put  in  the  hands  of 
the  best  detectives  in  the  city.  I  shall  pay  them  well  in  ad- 
vance, and  promise  five  hundred  dollars  to  the  one  that  fijids 
her.  They  '11  come  to  you.  You  must  give  them  all  the  infor- 
mation you  can,  and  lend  them  your  servants  to  identify  the 
girl.  This  old  Esha  plainly  has  a  grudge  against  her,  and  may 
be  made  useful  in  hunting  her  up.  Let  her  go  out  daily  for 
that  purpose.  Tell  all  your  pupils  to  be  on  the  watch.  I  '11 
break  up  your  school  if  she  is  n't  found.  Do  you  understand  ?  " 
"  I  '11  do  all  I  can,  sir,  to  have  her  caught." 
"  That  will  be  youi-  most  prudent  course,  madam." 
And  Ratcliff,  mth  more  exasperation  in  his  face  than  his 
words  had  expressed,  quitted  the  house. 

"  The  brute  ! "  muttered  Mrs.  Gentry,  as  thi'ough  the  blinds 
she  saw  him  enter  his  barouche,  and  drive  off.  "  He  treated 
me  as  if  I  'd  been  a  drab.  But  he  '11  be  come  up  with,  —  he 
will!" 

Esha  crept  down  into  the  kitchen,  with  thoughts  intent  on 
what  she  had  heai'd. 


224  PECULIAR. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

THE  YOUNG  LADY  WITH  A   CAEPET-BAG. 

"  Pain  has  its  own  noble  joy  when  it  kindles  a  consciousness  of  life,  before  stagnant  and 
torpid."  —  John  Sterling. 

CHILDREN  are  quick  to  detect  flaws  in  the  genealogy  of 
their  associates.  School-girls  are  quite  as  exclusive  in 
their  notions  as  our  grown-up  leaders  of  society.  Woe  to  the 
candidate  for  companionship  on  whose  domestic  record  there 
hangs  a  doubt! 

Mrs.  Gentry  having  felt  it  her  duty  to  inform  her  pupils  that 
Clara  was  not  a  lady,  the  latter  was  thenceforth  "  left  out  in  the 
cold  "  by  the  little  Brahmins  of  the  seminary.  She  would  sit, 
like  a  criminal,  apart  from  the  rest,  or  in  play-hours  seek  the 
company,  either  of  Esha  or  the  mocking-bird. 

One  circumstance  puzzled  the  other  young  ladies.  They 
could  not  understand  why,  in  the  more  showy  accomplishments 
of  music,  singing,  and  dancing,  more  expense  should  be  bestowed 
on  Clara's  education  than  on  theirs.  The  elegance  and  variety 
of  her  toilet  excited  at  once  their  envy  and  their  curiosity. 

Clara,  finding  that  she  was  held  back  from  serious  studies, 
gave  her  thoughts  to  them  aU  the  more  resolutely,  and  excelled 
in  them  so  far  as  to  shock  the  conservative  notions  of  Mrs. 
Gentry,  who  thought  such  acquisitions  presumptuous  in  a  slave. 
The  pupils  all  tossed  their  little  heads,  and  turned  their  backs, 
when  Clara  di-ew  near.  All  but  one.  Laura  Tremaine  prized 
Clara's  counsels  on  questions  of  dress,  and  defied  the  jeers  and 
frowns  that  would  deter  her  from  cultivating  the  acquaintance 
of  one  suspected  of  ignoble  birth.  Something  almost  like  a 
friendship  grew  up  between  the  two.  Laura  was  the  only 
daughter  of  a  wealthy  cotton-broker  who  resided  the  greater 
part  of  the  year  in  New  Orleans,  at  the  St.  Charles  Hotel. 

The  tvfo  girls  used  to  stroll  through  the  garden  with  arms 
about  each  other's  waist.     One  day  Clai-a,  in  a  gush  of  candor, 


THE  YOUNG  LADY  WITH  A  CARPET-BAG.  225 

not  only  avowed  hei-self  an  Abolitionist,  but  tried  to  convert 
Laura  to  the  heresy.  Quelle  horreur !  There  was  at  once  a 
cessation  of  the  intimacy,  —  Laura  exacting  a  recantation 
wliich  the  little  infidel  proudly  refused. 

Tlie  disagreement  had  occurred  only  a  few  days  before  that 
flight  of  Clara's  in  which  we  must  now  follow  her.  After  part- 
ing from  Esha,  she  walked  for  some  distance,  ignorant  why  she 
selected  one  direction  rather  than  another,  and  having  no 
clearly  defined  purpose  as  to  her  destination.  She  had  prome- 
naded thus  about  an  hour,  when  she  saw  a  barouche  approach- 
ing. The  occupant,  a  man,  sat  leaning  lazily  back  with  his  feet 
up  on  the  opposite  cushions.  A  black  driver  and  footman,  both 
in  livery,  filled  the  lofty  front  seat.  As  the  vehicle  rolled  on, 
Clara  recognized  RatclitF.  She  shuddered  and  dropped  her  veil. 
Fortunately  he  was  half  asleep,  and  did  not  see  her. 
Whither  now  ?  Of  two  streets  she  chose  the  more  obscure. 
On  she  walked,  and  the  carpet-bag  began  to  be  an  encumbrance. 
The  heat  was  oppressive.  Occasionally  a  passer-by  among  the 
young  men  would  say  to  an  acquaintance,  "  Did  you  notice°that 
figure?"  One  man  offered  to  carry  the  bag.  She  declined 
his  aid.  On  and  on  she  walked.  Whither  and  why  ?  She 
could  not  explain.  All  at  once  it  occurred  to  her  she  was 
wasting  her  strength  in  an  objectless  promenade. 

Her  utterly  forlorn  condition  revealed  itself  in  all  its  deso- 
lateness  and  danger.  She  stopped  under  the  shade  of  a  mag- 
nolia-tree, and,  leaning  against  the  trunk,  put  back  her  veil,  and 
wiped  the  moisture  from  her  face.  She  had  been  walking  more 
than  two  hours,  and  was  overheated  and  fatigued.  ''iVliat 
should  she  do  ?  The  tears  began  to  flow  at  the"  thought  that 
the  question  was  one  for  which  she  had  no  reply. 

Suddenly  she  looked  round  with  the  vague  sense  that  some 
one  was  watching  her.  She  encountered  the  gaze  of  a  gentle- 
man who,  with  an  air  of  mingled  curiosity  and  compassion, 
stood  observing  her  giief.  He  wore  a  loose  frock  of  buff 
nankin,  with  white  vest  and  pantaloons ;  and  on  his  head  was 
a  hat  of  very  fine  Panama  straw.  ^Vhether  he  was  young  or 
old  Clara  did  not  remark.  She  only  knew  that  a  face  beautiful 
from  its  compassion  beamed  on  her,  and  that  it  was  the  face  of 
a  gentleman. 

10*  o 


226  PECULIAR. 

"  Can  I  assist  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,  thank  you,"  replied  Clara,  "  I  'm  fatigued,  —  that 's 
all,  —  and  am  resting  here  a  few  minutes." 

"  Here 's  a  little  house  that  belongs  to  me,"  said  the  gentle- 
man, pointing  to  a  neat  though  small  wooden  tenement  before 
which  they  were  standing.  "  I  do  not  live  here,  but  the  family 
who  do  will  be  pleased  to  receive  you  for  my  sake.  You  shall 
have  a  room  all  to  yourself,  and  rest  there  till  you  are  refreshed. 
Do  you  distrust  me,  my  child  ?  " 

There  are  faces  out  of  which  Truth  looks  so  unequivocally, 
that  to  distrust  them  seems  like  a  profanation.  Clara  did  not 
distrust,  and  yet  she  hesitated,  and  replied  through  her  tears, 
"  No,  I  do  not  distrust  you,  but  I  've  no  claim  on  your  kindness." 

"  Ah !  but  you  have  a  claim,"  said  Vance  (for  it  was  he)  ; 
"  you  are  unhappy,  and  the  unhappy  are  my  brothers  and  my 
sisters.  I've  been  unhappy  myself.  I  knew  one  years  ago, 
young  like  you.  and  like  you  unhappy,  and  through  her  also 
you  have  a  claim.  There  !  Let  me  relieve  you  of  that  bag. 
Now  take  my  arm.  Good !  This  way."  Clara's  t^ars  gushed 
forth  anew  at  these  words,  and  -^^X.  less  at  the  words  than  at 
the  tone  in  which  they  were  uttered.  So  musical  and  yet  so 
melancholy  was  that  tone. 

He  knocked  at  the  door.  It  was  opened  by  Madame  Ber- 
nard, a  spruce  little  Frenchwoman,  who  had  married  a  jour- 
neyman printer,  and  who  felt  unbounded  gratitude  to  Vance  for 
his  gift  of  the  rent  of  the  little  house. 

"  Is  it  yon,  Mr.  Vance  ?  "We  've  been  wondering  why  you 
did  n't  come." 

"  Madame  Bernard,  this  young  lady  is  fatigued.  I  wish  her 
to  rest  in  my  room." 

"  The  room  of  Monsieur  is  always  in  order.  Follow  me,  my 
dear." 

And,  taking  the  carpet-bag,  Madame  conducted  her  to  the 
little  chamber,  then  asked :  "  Now  what  will  you  have,  my  dear? 
A  little  claret  and  water  ?     Some  fruit  or  cake  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  thank  you.  I  '11  rest  on  the  sofa  awhile.  You  're 
very  kind.     The  gentleman's  name  is  Vance,  is  it  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  is  he  not  an  acquaintance  ?  " 

"I  ne\er  saw  him  till  three  minutes  asro.    He  noticed  me 


THE  YOUNG  LADY  WITH  A  CAKPET-BAG.  227 

resting,  and,  I  fear,  weeping  in  the  street,  and  he  asked  me  in 
here  to  rest." 

"'Twas  just  like  him.  He's  so  good,  so  generous!  He 
gives  me  the  rent  of  this  house  with  the  pretty  garden  at- 
tached. You  can  see  it  from  the  window.  Look  at  the  grapes. 
He  reserves  for  himself  this  room,  which  I  daily  dust  and  keep 
in  order.  Poor  man !  'T  was  here  he  passed  the  few  months 
of  his  marriage,  years  ago.  His  wife  died,  and  he  bought  the 
house,  and  has  kept  it  in  repair  ever  since.  This  used  to  be 
their  sleeping-room.  'Twas  also  their  parlor,  for  they  were 
poor.  There  's  theii*  little  case  of  books.  Here 's  the  piano 
on  which  they  used  to  play  duets.  'T  was  a  hired  piano,  and 
was  returned  to  the  owner ;  but  Mr.  Vance  found  it  in  an  old 
warehouse,  not  long  ago,  had  it  put  in  order,  and  brought  here. 
'Tis  one  of  Chickering's  best;  a  superb  instrument.  You 
should  hear  Mr.  Vance  play  on  it." 

"  Does  he  play  well  ?  "  asked  Clara,  who  had  almost  forgotten 
her  own  troubles  in  listening  to  the  little  woman's  gossip. 

"  Ah  !  you  never  heard  such  playing !     I  know  something 
of  music.     My  family  is   musical.      I   flatter   myself  I'm  a 
judge.     I've  heard  Thalberg,  Vieuxtemps,  Jael,  Gottschalk; 
and  Mr.  Vance  plays  better  than  any  of  them." 
"  Is  he  a  professor  ?  " 

"No,  merely  an  amateur.  But  he  puts  a  soul  into  the 
notes.     Do  you  play  at  all,  my  dear?" 

"  Yes,  I  began  to  learn  so  early  that  I  cannot  recoUect  the 
time  when." 

"  I  thought  you  must  be  musical.      Just  try  this  instrument, 
my  dear,  that  is,  if  you  're  not  too  tired." 
"  Certainly,  if  't  will  oblige  you." 

Seating  herself  at  the  piano,  Clara  played,  from  Donizetti's 
Lucia,  Edgardo's  melodious  wail  of  abandonment  and  despair, 
"  X'  universo  intero  e  un  deserto  per  me  sensa  Lucia.'' 

Mi-s.  Bernard  had  opened  the  door  that  Vance  might  hear. 
At  the  conclusion  he  knocked  and  entered.  "  Is  this  the  way 
you  rest  yourself,  young  pilgrim  ?  "  he  asked.  "  You  're  a  pro- 
ficient, I  see.  You've  been  made  to  practise  four  hours  a 
day." 

"  Yes,  ever  since  I  can  remember." 


228  PECULIAR. 

"  So  I  should  think.  Noav  let  me  hear  something  in  a  dif- 
ferent vein." 

Clara,  while  the  blood  mounted  to  her  forehead,  and  her 
whole  frame  dilated,  struck  into  the  '•  Star-spangled  Banner," 
playing  it  with  her  whole  soul,  and  at  the  close  singing  the 
refrain, 

"  And  the  Star-spangled  Banner  in  triumph  shall  wave 
O'er  the  land  of  the  free  and  the  home  of  the  brave." 

"  But  that 's  treason  ! "  cried  ISIrs.  Bernard. 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Bernard,"  said  Vance,  "  run  at  once  to  the  police- 
station.  Tell  them  to  send  a  file  of  soldiers.  We  must  have 
her  arrested." 

*'  0  no,  no ! "  exclaimed  Clara,  deceived  by  Vance's  grave 
acting.  Then,  seeing  her  mistake,  she  laughed,  and  said : 
"That's  too  bad.  I  thought  for  a  moment  you  were  in 
earnest." 

"  We  will  spare  you  this  time,"  said  Vance,  with  a  smile 
that  made  his  whole  face  luminous ;  ''  but  should  outsiders  in 
the  street  hear  you,  they  may  not  be  so  forbearing.  They  will 
tear  our  little  house  down  if  you  're  not  careful." 

"  I  '11  not  be  so  imprudent  again,"  returned  Clara.  "  Will 
you  play  for  me,  sir  ?  "    And  she  resumed  her  seat  on  the  sofa. 

Vance  played  some  extemporized  variations  on  the  Carnival 
of  Venice;  and  Clara,  who  had  regarded  Mrs.  Bernard's 
praises  as  extravagant,  now  concluded  they  were  the  literal 
truth.  "  Oh ! "  she  exclaimed,  naively,  "  I  never  heard  playing 
like  that.     Do  not  ask  me  to  play  before  you  again,  sir." 

!Mrs.  Bernard  left  to  attend  to  the  affairs  of  the  cuisine. 

"  Now,  mademoiselle,"  said  Vance,  "  what  can  I  do  before 
I  go?" 

"  All  I  want,"  replied  Clara,  "  is  time  to  an-ange  some  plan. 
I  left  home  so  suddenly  I  'm  quite  at  a  loss." 

"  Do  I  understand  you  've  left  your  parents  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  parents,  sir." 

"  Then  a  near  relation,  or  a  guardian  ?  " 

"  Neither,  sir.     I  am  independent  of  all  ties." 

"  Have  you  no  friend  to  whom  you  can  go  for  advice  ?  " 

"  I  had  a  friend,  but  she  gave  me  up  because  I  'm  an  Abo- 
litionist." 


THE  YOUNG  LADY  WITH  A  CARPET-BAG.  229 

"  My  poor  little  lady  !  An  Abolitionist  ?  You  ?  In  times 
like  these  ?  When  Sumter  has  fallen,  too  ?  No  wonder  your 
friend  has  cast  you  off.     Who  is  she  ?  " 

"  Miss  Laura  Tremaine.  She  lives  at  the  St.  Charles.  Do 
you  know  her,  sir  ?  " 

"  Slightly.  I  met  her  in  the  drawing-room  not  long  since. 
She  does  not  appear  unamiable.  But  why  are  you  an  Abo- 
litionist ?  " 

"  Because  I  believe  in  God." 

Vance  felt  that  this  was  the  summing-up  of  the  whole  mat- 
ter. He  looked  with  new  interest  on  the  "little  lady."  In 
height  she  was  somewhat  shorter  than  Estelle,  —  not  much  over 
five  feet  two  and  a  half.  Not  from  her  features,  but  from  the 
maturity  of  their  expression,  he  judged  she  might  have  reached 
her  eighteenth  year.  Somewhat  more  of  a  brunette  than 
Estelle,  and  with  fine  abundant  hair  of  a  light  brown.  Eyes 
—  he  could  not  quite  see  their  color ;  but  they  were  vivid, 
penetrating,  earnest.  Features  regular,  and  a  profile  even 
more  striking  in  its  beauty  than  her  front  face.  A  figure 
straight  and  slim,  but  exquisitely  rounded,  and  every  move- 
ment revealing  some  new  grace.  Where  had  he  seen  a  face 
like  it? 

After  a  few  moments  of  contemplation,  he  said :  "  Do  not 
think  me  impertinently  curious.  You  have  been  weU  educated. 
You  have  not  had  to  labor  for  a  living.  Are  the  persons  to  whom 
you  've  been  indebted  for  support  no  longer  your  friends  ?  " 

"  They  are  my  worst  enemies,  and  all  that  has  been  bestowed 
on  me  has  been  from  hateful  motives  and  calculations."  — 
"  Now  I  'm  going  to  ask  a  very  delicate  question.  Are  you 
provided  with  money  ?  "  —  "  O  yes,  sir,  amply."  —  "  How 
much,  have  you  ?  "  —  "  Twenty  dollars."  —  "  Indeed  !  Are 
you  so  rich  as  that  ?  What 's  your  name  ?  "  —  "  The  name 
I  've  been  brought  up  under  is  Ellen  Murray ;  but  I  hate  it." 
— ''  Why  so  ?  "  —  "  Because  of  a  dream."  —  "A  dream  !  And 
what  was  it  ?  "  —  "  Shall  I  relate  it  ?  "  —  "  By  all  means." 

"  I  dreamed  that  a  beautiful  lady  led  me  by  the  hand  into  a 
spacious  garden.  On  one  side  were  fruits,  and  on  the  other 
side  flowers,  and  in  the  middle  a  circle  of  brilliant  verbenas 
from  the  centre  of  which  rose  a  tall  fountain,  fed  from  a  high 
hill  in  the  neighborhood.     And  the  lady  said,   '  This  is  your 


230  PECULIAR. 

garden,  and  your  name  is  not  Ellen  Murray.'  Then  she  gave 
me  a  letter  sealed  with  blue  —  no,  gray  —  wax,  and  said,  '  Put 
this  letter  on  your  eyes,  and  you  shall  find  it  there  -when  you 
wake.  Some  one  will  open  it,  and  your  name  will  be  seen 
written  there,  though  you  may  not  understand  it  at  first.'  '  But 
am  I  not  awake  ? '  I  asked.  '  0  no,'  said  the  lady.  '  This  is 
all  a  dream.  But  we  can  sometimes  impress  those  we  love  in 
this  way.'  '  And  who  ai-e  you  ? '  I  asked.  '  That  you  will 
know  when  you  interpret  the  letter,'  she  said." 

"  And  what  resulted  from  the  dream  ?  "  —  "  The  moment  I 
waked  I  put  my  hand  on  my  eyes.  Of  course  I  found  no  let- 
ter. The  next  night  the  lady  came  again,  and  said,  '  The  seal 
cannot  be  broken  by  yourself  Your  name  is  not  Ellen  Mur- 
ray, —  remember  that.'  A  third  night  this  dream  beset  me, 
and  so  forcibly  that  I  resolved  to  get  rid  of  the  name  as  far  as 
I  could.     And  so  I  made  my  friends  call  me  Darling." 

"  Well,  Darling,  as  you  —  "  —  "  0,  but,  sir !  you  must  not 
call  me  Darling.  That  would  never  do  ! "  —  "  What  can  I  call 
you,  then  ?  "  —  "  Call  me  IMiss,  or  Mademoiselle."  —  "  Well, 
Miss."  —  "  No,  I  do  not  like  the  sibilation."  —  "  Will  Ma'am 
do  any  better  ?  "  —  "  Not  till  I  'm  more  venerable.  Call  me 
Perdita."  —  ''  Perdita  what  ?  "  —  "  Perdita  Browm,  —  yes,  I 
love  the  name  of  Brown." 

"  Well,  Perdita,  as  you  've  not  quite  made  up  your  mind  to 
seek  the  protection  of  Miss  Tremaine,  my  advice  is  that  you 
remain  here  till  to-morrow.  Here  is  a  little  case  filled  with 
books  ;  and  on  the  shelf  of  the  closet  is  plenty  of  old  music,  — 
works  of  Handel,  Mozart,  Beethoven,  Mendelssohn,  Schubert, 
and  some  of  the  Italian  masters.  Do  you  play  Schubert's 
Sacred  Song?"  —  "I never  heard  it."  —  "Learn  it,  then,  by  all 
means.  'T  is  in  that  book.  Shall  I  teU  Mrs.  Bernard  you  'U 
pass  the  night  here  ?  "  —  "  Do,  sir.  I  'm  very  grateful  for  your 
kindness."  —  "  Good  by,  Perdita  !  Should  anything  detain  me 
to-morrow,  wait  till  I  come.  Keep  up  your  four  hours'  prac- 
tice. Madame  Bemai'd  is  amiable,  but  a  little  talkative.  I 
shall  tell  her  to  allow  you  five  hours  for  your  studies.  Adieu, 
Perdita!" 

He  held  out  his  hand,  and  Clara  gave  hers,  and  cast  down 
her  eyes.  "  You  've  told  me  a  true  story  ?  "  said  he.  "  Yes  ! 
I  wiU  trust  you." 


THB  YOUNG  LADY  WITH  A   CARPET-BAG.  231 

"  Indeed,  sir,  I  Ve  told  you  nothing  but  the  truth." 
Yes.  She  had  told  the  truth,  but  unhappily  not  the  luhole 
truth.  And  yet  how  she  longed  to  kneel  at  his  feet  and  con- 
fess all !  Various  motives  '\\dthheld  her.  She  was  not  quite 
sure  how  he  had  received  her  antislavery  confessions.  He 
might  be  a  friend  of  Mr.  RatcliiF.  There  was  dismay  in  the 
very  possibility.  And  finally  a  certain  pride  or  prudence 
restrained  her  from  throwing  herself  on  the  protection  of  a 
stranger  not  of  her  own  sex. 

And  so  the  golden  opportunity  was  allowed  to  escape ! 

Vance  lingered  for  a  moment  holding  her  hand,  as  if  to 
invite  her  to  a  further  confidence ;  but  she  said  nothing,  and 
he  left  the  room.  Clara  opened  the  music-book  at  Schubert's 
piece,  and  commenced  playing.  Vance  stopped  on  the  stairs 
and  listened,  keeping  time  approvingly.  "  Good ! "  he  said. 
Then  telling  the  little  landlady  not  to  interrupt  Miss  Brown's 
studies,  he  quitted  the  house,  walking  in  the  direction  of  the 
hotel. 

Clara  practised  till  she  could  play  from  memory  the  charm- 
ing composition  commended  by  Vance.  Then  she  threw 
herself  on  the  bed  and  fell  asleep.  She  had  not  remained 
thus  an  hour  when  there  was  a  knock.  Dinner!  Mr. 
Bernard  had  come  in ;  a  dapper  little  man,  so  remarkably  well 
satisfied  with  himself,  his  wife,  and  his  bill  of  fare,  that  he 
repeatedly  had  to  lay  down  knife  and  fork  and  rub  his  hands 
in  glee. 

"  Are  you  related  to  Mr.  Vance  ?  "  he  asked  Clara. 

"  Not  at  all.  He  saw  me  in  the  street,  weary  and  distressed. 
The  truth  is,  I  had  left  my  home  for  a  good  reason.  I  have 
no  parents,  you  must  consider.  He  asked  me  in  here.  From 
his  looks  I  judged  he  was  a  man  to  trust.  I  gladly  accepted 
his  invitation." 

"  Truly  he 's  a  friend  in  need.  Mademoiselle.  I  saw  him  do 
another  kind  thing  to-day." 

•'What  was  it?" 

"It  happened  only  an  hour  ago  in  Carondelet  Street.  A 
ragged  fellow  was  haranguing  a  crowd.  He  spoke  on  the 
wrong  side,  —  in  short,  in  favor  of  the  old  flag.  Some  laughed, 
some  hissed,  some^  applauded.  Suddenly  a  party  of  men, 
armed  with  swords  and  muskets,  pushed  through  the  crowd, 


232  PECULIAR. 

and  seized  the  speaker.  They  formed  a  court.  .Judge  Ljuch 
presidmg.  under  a  palmetto.  They  decided  that  the  vagabond 
should  be  hung.  He  had  already  been  badly  pricked  in  the 
flank  with  a  bayonet.  And  now  a  table  was  brought  out,  he 
was  placed  on  it,  and  a  rope  put  round  his  neck  and  tied  to  a 
bough.     Decidedly  they  were  going  to  string  him  up." 

"  Good  heavens  ! "  cried  Clara,  who,  as  the  story  proceeded, 
had  turned  pale  and  thrust  away  the  plate  of  food  from  before 
her.     "  Did  you  make  no  effort  to  save  him  ?  " 

"  What  could  I  do  ?  They  would  merely  have  got  another 
rope,  and  made  me  keep  him  company.  Well,  the  mob  were 
expecting  an  entertainment.  They  were  about  to  knock  away 
the  table,  when  Monsieur  Vance  pushed  through  the  crowd, 
hauled  off  the  hangman,  and,  jumping  on  the  table,  cut  the 
rope,  and  lifted  the  prisoner  faint  and  bleeding  to  the  gi'ound. 
WTiat  a  yell  from  Judge  Lynch  and  the  court!  Monsieur 
Vance,  his  coat  and  vest  all  bloody  from  contact  with  — " 

"  What  a  shame  1 "  interposed  Mrs.  Bernard.  "  A  coat  and 
vest  he  must  have  put  on  clean  tliis  morning!  So  nicely 
ironed  and  starched !  " 

"  But  my  stoiy  agitates  you,  Mademoiselle,"  said  the  type- 
setter. "  You  look  pale."  And  the  little  man,  not  regarding 
the  inappropriateness  of  the  act,  rubbed  his  hands. 

"  Go  on,"  replied  Clai-a ;  and  she  sipped  from  a  tumbler  of 
cold  water. 

"  There  's  little  more  to  say.  Mademoiselle.  Messieurs,  the 
bullies,  drew  their  swords  on  Monsieur  Vance.  He  showed  a 
revolver,  and  they  fell  back.  Then  he  talked  to  them  till  they 
cooled  down,  gave  him  three  cheers,  and  went  off.  I  and  old 
Mr.  Wiuslow  helped  him  to  find  a  carriage.  We  put  the 
wounded  man  into  it.  He  was  driven  to  the  hospital,  and  his 
wound  attended  to.     'Tis  serious,  I  believe." 

And  Bernard  again  rubbed  his  hands. 

"And  was  that  the  last  you  saw  of  Mr.  Vance?"  asked  Clara. 

"The  last.  Shall  I  help  you  to  some  pine-apple.  Made- 
moiselle ?  " 

"  No,  thank  you.  I  've  finished  my  dinner.  You  will  ex- 
cuse me." 

And  she  returned  to  the  little  room  assioried  to  her  use. 


WILL  YOU  WALK  IN']  0  MY  PARLOR?  233 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

WILL  YOU  WALK  INTO  MY  PARLOR? 

"  Sing  again  the  song  you  sung 
When  we  were  together  young  ; 
When  there  were  but  you  and  I 
Undemeatli  the  summer  sky. 
Sing  the  song,  and  o'er  and  o'er, 
Though  I  know  that  nevermore 
Will  it  seem  the  song  you  sung 
When  we  were  together  young." 

George  William  Curtis. 

VANCE  passed  on  through  the  streets,  wondering  what 
could  be  the  mystery  which  had  driven  his  new  acquaint- 
ance forth  into  the  wide  world  without  a  protector.  Should  he 
speak  of  her  to  Miss  Tremaine  ?  Perhaps.  But  not  unless  he 
could  do  it  without  betrayal  of  confidence. 

There  was  something  in  Perdita  that  reminded  him  of  Es- 
telle.  Had  a  pressure  of  similar  circumstances  wrought  the 
peculiarity  which  awakened  the  association?  Yet  he  missed 
in  Perdita  that  diaphanous  simplicity,  that  uncalculating  candor, 
which  seemed  to  lead  Estelle  to  unveil  her  whole  nature  before' 
him.  But  Perdita  had  not  wholly  failed  in  frankness.  Had 
she  not  glorified  the  old  flag  in  her  music  ?  And  had  she  not 
been  outspoken  on  the  one  forbidden  theme  ? 

As  these  thoughts  flitted  through  his  mind,  excluding  for  the 
moment  those  graver  interests,  involving  a  people's  doom,  he 
heard  the  shouts  of  a  crowd,  and  saw  a  man,  pale  and  bloody, 
standing  on  a  table  under  a  tree,  from  a  branch  of  which  a 
rope  was  dangling.  Vance  comprehended  the  meaning  of  it 
all  in  an  instant.  He  darted  toward  the  spot,  gliding  swift, 
agile,  and  flexuous-  through  the  compacted  crowd.  Yesi  The 
victim  was  the  same  man  to  whom  he  had  given  the  gold-piece, 
some  days  before.  Vance  put  a  summary  stop°to  Judge 
Lynch's  proceedings,  breaking  up  the  court  precisely  as  Be°r- 
nard  had  related.     The  wounded  man  was  conveyed  to  the 


234  PECULIAR. 

hospital.  Here  Vance  saw  his  wound  dressed,  hired  an  extra 
attendant  to  nurse  him,  and  then,  in  tones  of  warmest  sympathy, 
asked  the  sufferer  what  more  he  could  do  for  him. 

The  man  opened  his  eyes.  A  swarthy,  filthy,  uncombed, 
unshaven  wretch.  He  had  been  so  blinded  by  blood  that  he 
had  not  recognized  Vance.  But  now,  seeing  him,  he  started, 
and  strove  to  raise  himself  on  liis  elbow. 

Vance  and  the  surgeon  prevented  the  movement.  The 
patient  stared,  and  said:  "You've  done  it  agin,  have  yer? 
"What 's  yer  name  ?  " 

"This  is  Mr.  Vance,"  replied  the  surgeon. 

"  Vance  !  Vance  !  "  said  the  patient,  as  if  trying  to  force  his 
memory  to  some  particular  point.  Then  he  added  :  "  Can't  do 
it !     And  yit  I  've  seen  him  afore  somewhar." 

"  Well,  my  poor  fellow,  I  must  leave  you.     Good  by." 

"  Wliy,  tliis  hand  is  small  and  white  as  a  woman's !  "  said  the 
patient,  touching  Vance's  fingers  carefully  as  he  might  have 
touched  some  fragile  flower.  "  Yer  '11  come  agin  to  see  me,  — 
woan't  yer  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  '11  not  forget  it."  —  "  Call  to-morrow,  will  yer  ?  "  — 
"  Yes,  if  I  'm  alive  I  '11  call."  —  "  Thahnk  yer,  strannger. 
Good  by." 

Giving  a  few  dollars  to  the  surgeon  for  the  patient's  benefit, 
Vance  quitted  the  hospital.  An  hour  afterwards,  in  his  room 
at  the  St.  Charles,  he  penned  and  sent  this  note :  — 

« To  Perdita  :  I  shall  not  be  able  to  see  you  again  to- 
day. Content  yourself  as  well  as  you  can  in  the  company  of 
Mozart  and  Beethoven,  Bellini  and  Donizetti,  Irving  and  Dick- 
ens, Tennyson  and  Longfellow.  The  company  is  not  large,  but 
you  will  find  it  select.  Unless  some  very  serious  engagement 
should  prevent,  I  will  see  you  to-morrow.  Vance." 

This  little  note  was  read  and  re-read  by  Clara,  till  the  dark- 
ness of  night  came  on.  She  studied  the  forms  of  the  letters, 
the  ciu-ves  and  flourishes,  all  the  peculiarities  of  the  chii-ography, 
as  if  she  could  derive  from  them  some  new  hints  for  her  incip- 
ient hero-worship.  Then,  hghting  the  gas,  she  acted  on  the 
advice  of  the  letter,  by  devoting  herself  to  the  performance  of 
Beethoven's  Fifth  Symphony. 

Vance   meanwhile,  after  a  frugal  dmner,  eliminated  from 


WILL  YOU  WALK  INTO  MY  PARLOR?  235 

luxurious  viands,  rang  the  bell,  and  sent  his  card  to  Miss  Tre- 
maine.  Laura's  mother  was  an  invalid,  and  Laura  herself, 
relieved  from  matenial  restraint,  had  been  lately  in  the  habit 
of  receiving  and  entertaining  company,  much  to  her  own  satis- 
faction, as  she  now  had  an  enlarged  field  for  indulging  a  pro- 
pensity not  uncommon  among  young  women  who  have  been 
much  admired  and  much  indulged. 

Laura  was  a  predestined  flirt.  Had  she  been  brought  up 
between  the  walls  of  a  nunnery,  where  the  profane  presence  of 
a  man  had  never  been  known,  she  would  instinctively  have 
launched  into  coquetry  the  first  time  the  bishop  or  the  gardener 
made  his  appearance. 

Having  heard  Madame  Brugiere,  the  fashionable  widow, 
speak  of  Mr.  Vance  as  the  handsomest  man  in  New  Orleans, 
Laura  was  possessed  with  the  desire  of  bringing  him  into  her 
circle  of  admirers.  So,  one  day  after  dinner,  she  begged  her 
father  to  stroll  with  her  through  a  certain  corridor  of  the  hotel. 
She  calculated  that  Vance  would  pass  there  on  his  way  to  his 
room.  She  was  right.  "  Is  that  Mr.  Vance,  papa  ?  "  —  "  Yes, 
my  dear."  — "  O,  do  introduce  him.  They  say  he  's  such  a 
superb  musician.  We  must  have  him  to  try  our  new  piano." 
—  "  I  'm  but  slightly  acquainted  with  him."  —  "  No  matter. 
He  goes  into  the  best  society,  you  know."  (The  father  did  n't 
know  it,  —  neither  did  the  daughter,  —  but  he  took  it  for 
gi-anted  she  spoke  by  authority.)  "  He  's  very  rich,  too,"  added 
Laura.  This  was  enough  to  satisfy  the  paternal  conscience. 
"  Good  evening,  Mr.  Vance  !  Lively  times  these  !  Let  me 
make  you  acquainted  with  my  daughter,  IMiss  Laura.  We 
shall  be  happy  to  see  you  in  our  parlor,  Mr.  Vance."  Vance 
bowed,  and  complimented  the  lady  on  a  tea-rose  she  held  in 
her  hand.  "  Did  you  ever  see  anything  more  beautiful  ?  " 
she  asked. —"Never  till  now,"  he  replied. —  "  Ah  !  The 
rose  is  yours.  You  've  fairly  won  it,  Mr.  Vance  ;  but  there  's 
a  condition  attached:  you  must  promise  to  call  and  try  my 
new  piano."—  "  Agreed.  I  ']1  call  at  an  early  day."  He  bowed, 
and  passed  on.  "  A  very  charming  person,"  said  Laura.  —  "  Yes, 
a  gentleman  evidently,"  said  the  father.  —  "  And  he  is  n't  redo- 
lent of  cigar-smoke  and  whiskey,  as  nine  tenths  of  you  ill- 
smelling  men  are,"  added  Laui-a.  ■—  "  Tut !  Don't  abuse  your 


236  PECULIAR. 

future  husband,  my  dear."  — ''  How  old  should  you  take  3Ir. 
Vance  to  be  ?  "  —  "  About  thirty-five."  —  "  0  no  *!  Not  a  year 
over  thirty."  —  "  He  's  too  old  to  be  caught  by  any  chaff  of 
yours,  my  dear  !  "  —  "  Now,  papa  !  1 11  not  walk  with  }-ou 
another  minute  ! " 

A  few  evenings  afterwards,  as  Laura  sat  lonely  in  her  pri- 
vate parlor,  a  waiter  put  into  her  hand  a  card  on  which  was 
simply  ^vlitten  in  pencil,  ''Mr.  Vance."  She  did  not  tiy 
to  check  the  start  of  exultation  \\-ith  which  she  said,  "  Show 
him  in." 

Laura  was  now  verging  on  her  eighteenth  year.  A  little 
above  the  Medicean  height,  her  well-rounded  shouldei-s  and 
bust  prefigured  for  her  womanhood  a  voluptuous  fulness.  Nine 
men  out  of  ten  would  have  pronounced  her  beautiful.  Had 
she  been  put  up  at  a  slave-vendue,  the  auctioneer,  if  a  connois- 
seur, would  have  expatiated  thus  :  "  Let  me  call  your  atten- 
tion, gentlemen,  to  this  very  superior  article.  Faultless,  you 
see,  every  way.  In  Umb  and  action  perfect.  Too  showy,  per- 
haps, for  a  field-hand,  but  excellent  for  the  parlor.  Look  at 
that  profile.  The  Grecian  type  in  its  perfection  !  Nose  a  little 
retrousse,  but  what  piquancy  in  the  expression !  Hair  dai*k, 
glossy,  abundant.  Cheeks,  —  do  you  notice  that  little  dimple 
when  she  smiles  ?  Teeth  sound  and  white  :  open  the  mouth  of 
the  article  and  look,  gentlemen.  Just  feel  of  those  arms,  gen- 
tlemen. Complexion  smooth,  brilliant,  perfect.  Did  you  ever 
see  a  head  and  neck  more  neatly  set  on  the  shoulders  ?  —  and 
such  shoulders  !  What  are  you  prepared  to  bid,  gentlemen,  for 
this  very,  very  superior  article  ?  " 

Laura  was  attired  in  a  light  checked  foulard  silk,  trimmed 
with  cherry-colored  ribbons.  Running  to  the  mirror,  she  ad- 
justed here  and  there  a  cm-1,  and  lowered  the  gauze  over  her 
shoulders.  Then,  resuming  her  seat,  she  took  Tennyson's 
"  In  Memoriam  "  from  the  table,  and  became  intensely  absorbed 
in  the  perusal. 

As  Vance  entered,  Laura  said  to  herself,  ''  I  know  I  'm  right 
as  to  his  age ! "  Nor  was  her  estimate  surprising.  Dm-ing  the 
last  two  lustrums  of  his  nomadic  life,  he  had  rather  rein^-igor- 
ated  than  impaired  his  physical  frame.  He  never  counteracted 
the  hygienic  benefits  of  his  Arab  habits  by  ^dces  of  eating  and 


WILL  YOU  WALK  INTO  MY  PARLOR V  237 

drinking.  Abjuring  all  liquids  but  water,  sleeping  often  on  the 
bare  ground  under  the  open  sky,  he  so  hardened  and  purified 
his  constitution  that  those  constantly  recurring  local  inflamma- 
tions which,  under  the  name  of  "  colds  "  of  some  sort,  beset  men 
in  theii'  ordinary  lives  in  cities,  were  to  him  almost  unknown. 
And  so  he  was  what  the  Creoles  called  hien  consert^e. 

Laura,  with  a  pretty  affectation  of  surprise,  threw  down  her 
book,  and,  with  extended  hand,  rose  to  greet  her  visitor.  To  him 
the  art  he  had  first  studied  on  the  stage  had  become  a  second 
nature.  Every  movement  was  proportioned,  graceful,  harmo- 
nious. He  fell  into  no  inelegant  posture.  He  did  not  sit 
down  in  a  chair  without  naturally  falling  into  the  attitude  that 
an  artist  would  have  thought  right.  That  consummate  ease 
and  grace  which  play-goers  used  to  admire  in  James  Wallack 
were  remarkable  in  Vance,  whether  in  motion  or  in  repose. 

Taking  Laura's  proffered  hand,  he  led  her  to  the  sofa,  where 
they  sat  down.  After  some  commonplaces  in  regard  to  the 
news  of  the  day,  he  remarked  :  "  By  the  way,  do  you  know  of 
any  good  school  in  the  city  for  a  young  girl,  say  of  foui'teen  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Mrs.  Gentry's  school,  wliich  I  've  just  left,  is  one  of 
the  most  select  in  the  city.  Here 's  her  card."  —  "  But  are  her 
pupils  alt  from  the  best  families ? "  —  "I  believe  so.  Lideed, 
I  know  the  families  of  all  except  one."  —  "  And  who  is  she  ?  " 
— "  Her  name  is  Ellen  Murray,  but  I  call  her  Darling.  I 
tliink  she  must  be  preparing  either  for  the  opera  or  the  ballet ; 
for  in  music,  singing,  and  dancing  she  's  far  beyond  the  rest  of 
us."  —  "  And  behind  you  in  the  other  branches,  I  suppose."  — 
"  I  'm  afraid  not.  She  won't  be  kept  back.  She  must  have 
given  twice  the  time  to  study  that  any  of  the  rest  of  us  gave." 
—  "  Does  she  seem  to  be  of  gentle  blood  ?  "  —  "  Yes ;  though 
IVIrs.  Gentry  tells  us  she  is  low-bom.  For  all  that,  she  's  quite 
pretty,  and  knows  more  than  Madame  Groux  herself  about 
dress.  And  so  DarKng  and  I,  in  spite  of  Mrs.  Gentry,  were 
getting  to  be  quite  intimate,  when  we  quarrelled  on  the  slavery 
question,  and  separated."  —  "  What !  the  little  miss  is  a  politi- 
cian, is  she  ?  "  —  "  Oh  !  she  's  a  downright  Abolitionist !  —  talks 
like  a  little  fury  against  the  wrongs  of  slavery.  I  could  n't 
endure  it,  and  so  cast  her  off."  —  "  Bring  her  to  me.  I  'U  con- 
vert her  in  five  minutes."  —  "  O  you  vain  man  !     But  I  wish 


238  PECULIAR. 

you  could  hear  her  sing.  Such  a  voice!"  —  "Couldn't  you 
give  me  an  opportunity  ?  You  should  n't  have  quarrelled  with 
her,  Miss  Treniaine  !  It  rather  amuses  me  that  slie  should 
talk  treason.  TTliy  not  arrange  a  little  musical  party  ?  I  '11 
come  and  play  for  you  a  whole  evening,  if  you  '11  have  Dar- 
ling to  sing."  —  "  O,  that  would  be  so  charming !  But  then 
Darling  and  I  have  separated.  "We  don't  speak."  —  "  Non- 
sense !  jMiss  Laura  Treniaine  can  aiford  to  offer  the  olive- 
branch  to  a  poor  little  outcast."  — "  To  be  sure  I  can,  Mr. 
Vance  !  And  I  '11  have  her  here,  if  I  have  to  bring  her  by 
stratagem."  —  "  Admirable  !  Just  send  for  me  as  soon  as  you 
secure  the  bu-d.  And  keep  her  strictly  caged  tiU  I  can  hear 
her  sing."  —  "  I  '11  do  it,  Mr.  Vance.  Even  the  dragon  Gentry 
shall  not  prevent  it."  —  "  Shall  I  try  the  new  piano  ?  "  —  "  0, 
I  've  been  so  longing  to  hear  you  !  " 

And  Vance,  seating  himself  at  the  instrument,  exerted  him- 
self as  he  had  rarely  done  to  fascinate  an  audience.  Laura, 
who  had  taste,  if  not  diligence,  in  music,  was  charmed  and 
bewildered.  "  How  delightful !  How  very  delightful !  "  she 
exclaimed.     Vance  was  growing  dangerous. 

At  that  moment  the  servant  entered  with  two  cards. 

"  Did  you  tell  them  I  'm  in  ?  "  —  "  Yes,  Mahmzel.'* 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Laura,  with  an  air  of  disappointment, 
"  show  them  up."  And  handing  the  cards  to  Vance,  she 
asked,  "  Shall  1  introduce  them  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Robert  Onslow,  —  Charles  Kenrick.     Certainly." 

The  young  men  entered,  and  were  introduced. 

Kenrick  drew  near,  and  said :  "  JNIr.  Vance,  allow  me  the 
honor  of  taking  you  by  the  hand.  I  've  heard  of  the  poor 
fellow  you  rescued  from  the  halter  of  Judge  Lynch.  In  the 
name  of  humanity,  I  thank  you.  That  poor  ragged  declaimer 
merely  spoke  my  own  sentiments." 

"  Indeed  !     What  did  he  say  ?  " 

"  He  said,  according  to  the  Delta's  report,  that  this  was  the 
rich  man's  war ;  that  the  laboring  man  who  should  lift  his  arm 
in  defence  of  slavery  was  a  fool.    All  which  I  hold  to  be  true." 

"  Pshaw,  Charles  !  A  truce  to  politics  !  "  said  Onslow. 
"  Why  wdll  you  thrust  it  into  faces  that  frown  on  your  wild 
notions  ?  " 


WILL  YOU   WALK  INTO  iMY  PARLOR?  239 

"  Miss  Tremaine  reigns  absolute  in  this  room,"  rejoined 
Vance  ;  "  and  from  the  slavery  she  imposes  we  have  no  desire, 
I  presume,  to  be  free." 

"  And  her  order  is,"  cried  Laura,  "  that  you  sink  the  shop. 
Thank  you,  Mr.  Vance,  for  vindicating  my  authority." 

There  was  no  further  jaii'ing.  Both  the  young  men  were 
personally  fine  specimens  of  the  Southern  chivalric  race.  Ons- 
low was  the  lai-ger  and  handsomer.  He  seemed  to  unite  with 
a  feminine  gentleness  the  traits  that  make  a  man  popular  and 
beloved  among  men  ;  a  charming  companion,  sunny-tempered, 
amiable,  social,  ever  finding  a  soul  of  goodness  in  things  evil, 
and  making  even  triviaUties  surrender  enjoyments,  where  to 
other  men  all  was  baiTen.  Life  was  to  him  a  sort  of  grand 
picnic,  and  a  man's  true  business  was  to  make  himself  as 
agreeable  as  possible,  first  to  himself,  and  then  to  others. 

Far  different  seemed  Kenrick.  To  him  the  important  world 
was  that  of  ideas.  All  else  was  unsubstantial.  The  thought 
that  was  uppermost  must  be  uttered.  Not  to  conciliate,  not  to 
please,  even  in  the  dramng-room,  would  he  be  an  assentator,  a 
flatterer.  To  him  truth  was  the  one  thing  needful,  and  there- 
fore, in  season  and  out  of  season,  must  error  be  combated 
whenever  met.  The  times  were  of  a  character  to  intensify  in 
him  all  his  idiosyncrasies.  He  could  not  smile,  and  sing,  and 
utter  small-talk  while  his  country  was  being  weighed  in  the 
balance  of  the  All-just,  —  and  her  institutions  purged  as  by  fire. 

And  so  to  Laiira  he  dwindled  into  insignificance. 

Vance  rose  to  go. 

"  One  song.     Lideed,  I  must  have  one,"  said  Laura. 

Vance  complied  with  her  request,  singing  a  favorite  song  of 
Estelle's,  Reichardt's 

"Du  liebes  Aug',  du  lieber  Stern, 
Du  bist  mir  nah',  und  doch  so  fern!"* 

Then,  pressing  Laura's  proffered  hand,  and  bowing,  he  left. 
"  What  a  voice  !   what  a  touch  ! "  said  Onslow. 
"  It  was  enchanting  ! "  cried  Laura. 
"  I  thought  he  was  a  different  sort  of  man,"  sighed  Kenrick. 

*  "Beloved  eye,  beloved  star. 

Thou  art  so  near,  and  yet  so  far ! " 


240  PECULIAR. 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

CONFESSIONS  OF   A  MEAN  WHITE. 

"  Throw  thyself  on  thy  God,  nor  mock  him  with  feeble  denial; 
Sure  of  his  love,  and  0,  sure  of  his  mercy  at  last  •, 
Bitter  and  deep  though  the  draught,  yet  drain  thou  the  cup  of  thy  trial, 
And  in  its  healing  effect  smile  at  the  bitterness  past." 

Lines  composed  by  Sir  John  Herschel  in  a  dream. 

AFTER  an  early  breakfast  the  following  morning,  Vance 
proceeded  to  the  hos^^ital.  The  patient  had  been 
expecting  him. 

"  He  has  seemed  to  know  just  how  near  you  've  been  for 
the  last  hour,"  said  the  nurse.     "  He  followed  —  " 

"  Sit  down,  Mr.  Vance,  please,"  interrupted  the  patient. 

Vance  drew  a  chair  near  to  the  pillow  and  sat  down. 

"  It  all  kum  ter  me  last  night,  Mr.  Vance !  Now  I 
remember  whar  't  was  I  met  yer.  But  fust  lem  me  tell  yer 
who  an'  what  I  be.  My  name's  Quattles.  I  was  bom  in 
South  Kerliny,  not  fur  from  Columby.  I  was  what  the 
niggers  call  a  mean  white,  and  my  father  he  was  a  mean  white 
afore  me,  and  all  my  brothers  they  was  mean  whites,  and  my 
sisters  they  mahrrid  mean  whites.  The  one  thing  we  was 
raised  ter  do  fiust-rate,  and  what  we  tuk  ter  kindly  from  the 
start,  was  ter  shirk  labor.  We  was  taught  't  was  degradin'  ter 
do  useful  work  like  a  nigger  does,  so  we  all  tried  hard  ter 
find  su'thin*  that  mowt  be  easy  an'  not  useful." 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  interrupted  Vance,  who  saw  the  man  was 
suffering,  "  you  're  fatiguing  yourself  too  much.     Rest  awhile.'* 

"  No,  ISIr.  Vance.  You  mus  n't  mind  these  twitchin's  an' 
spazums  like.  They  airn't  quite  as  bahd  as  they  look.  Wall, 
as  I  war  sayin',  one  cuss  of  slavery  ar',  it  diives  the  poor 
whites  away  from  honest  labor  r  makes  'em  think  it 's  mean- 
sperretid  ter  hoe  com  an'  plant  'taters.  An'  this  feelin',  yer 
see,  ar'  all  ter  the  profit  uv  the  rich  men,  —  the  Hammonds, 
Rhetts,  an'  Draytons,  —  'cause  why  ?  'cause  it  leaves  ter  the 


CONFESSIONS  OF  A  MEAN   WHITE.  241 

rich  all  the  good  land,  an'  drives  the  poor  whites  ter  pickin' 
up  a  mean  livin',  any  way  they  kin,  outside  uv  hard  work! 
Howsomever,  I  did  n't  see  this ;  an'  so,  like  other  mis'rable 
fools,  I  thowt  I  wai*  a  sort  uv  a  'ristocrat  myself,  'cause  I  could 
put  on  airs  afore  a  nigger.  An'  this  feelin'  the  slave-ownei*s 
try  to  keep  up  in  the  mean  whites ;  try  to  make  'em  feel  proud 
they  're  not  niggers,  though  the  hull  time  the  poor  cusses  fare 
wuss  nor  any  nigger  in  a  rice-swamp." 

"  My  friend,"  said  Vance,  "  you  've  got  at  the  truth  at  last, 
though  I  fear  you  've  been  long  about  it." 

"  Yer  may  bet  high  on  that,  Mr.  Vance !  How  I  used  ter 
cuss  the  Abolishunei'S,  an'  go  ravin'  mahd  over  the  meddhn' 
Yankees !  Wall,  what  d'  yer  think  war  the  best  thing  South 
Kerliny  could  do  fur  me,  after  never  off'rin'  me  a  chance  ter 
larn  ter  read  an'  write  ?  I  '11  tell  yer  what  the  peculiar 
prermoted  me  ter.     I  riz  to  be  foreman  uv  of  a  rat-pit." 

"  Of  a  what  ?  "  interrogated  Vance. 

"  Of  a  rat-pit.  Tliere  war  a  feller  in  Charleston  who  kept 
a  rat-pit,  whar  a  little  tareyer  dog  killed  rats,  so  many  a 
minute,  to  please  the  sportin'  gentry  an'  other  swells.  Price 
uv  admission  one  dollar.  The  swells  would  come  an'  bet  how 
many  rats  the  dog  would  kill  in  a  minute,  —  't  was  sometimes 
thu'ty,  sometimes  forty,  and  wunst  'twas  fifty.  My  bus'ness 
was  ter  throw  the  rats,  one  after  another,  inter  the  pit.  We  'd 
a  big  cage  with  a  hole  in  the  top,  an'  I  had  ter  put  my  bar 
hand  in,  an'  throw  out  the  rats  fast  as  I  could,  one  by  one. 
The  tareyer  would  spring  an'  break  the  backs  uv  the  varmints 
Avith  one  jerk  uv  his  teeth.  Great  bus'ness  fur  a  white  man, 
—  war  n't  it  ?  So  much  more  genteel  than  plantin'  an  hoein' ! 
Wall,  I  kept  at  that  pleasant  trade  five  yars,  an'  then  lost  my 
place  'cause  both  hands  got  so  badly  bit  I  could  n't  pull  out  the 
rats  no  longer." 

"  You  must  have  seen  things  from  a  bad  stand-point,  mj 
friend." 

"  Bad  as  't  was,  't  was  better  nor  the  slavery  stand-pint  I 
kum  ter  next.  Yer  'v  heerd  tell  uv  JeflP  McTavish  ?  Wall, 
Jeff  hahd  an  overseer  who  got  shot  in  the  leg  by  a  runaway 
swamp  nigger,  an'  so  I  was  hired  as  a  sort  uv  overseer's  mate. 
I  wai'  n't  brung  up  ter  be  very  tender  'bout  niggers,  Mr. 
n  p 


242  PECULIAR. 

Vance ;  but  the  way  niggers  was  treated  on  that  air  plantation 
was  too  much  even  for  my  tough  stomach.  I  've  seen  niggers 
shot  down  dead  by  McTavish  fur  jest  open  in'  thar  big  lips  to 
answer  him  when  he  was  mad.  There  war  n't  ten  uv  his 
slaves  out  uv  a  hunderd,  that  war  n't  scored  all  up  an'  down 
the  back  with  marks  uv  the  lash."  * 

"  Did  you  whip  them  ?  "  inquired  Vance. 

''  I  did  n't  do  nothin'  else ;  but  I  did  it  slack,  an'  McTavish 
he  found  it  out,  and  begun  jawin'  me.  An'  I  guv  it  to  him 
back,  and  we  hahd  it  thar  purty  steep,  an'  bymeby  he  outs 
with  his  revolver,  but  I  war  too  spry  for  him.  I  tripped  him 
up,  an'  he  hahd  ter  ask  pardon  uv  a  mean  white  wunst  in  his 
life,  an'  no  mistake.     A  little  tahmrin'  water,  please." 

Vance  administered  a  spoonful,  and  the  patient  resumed  his 
story. 

"  In  coorse,  I  hahd  ter  leave  McTavish.  Then  fur  five 
years  I  'd  a  tight  time  of  it  keepin'  wooded  up.  What  with 
huntin'  and  fishin',  thimble-riggin'  an'  stealin',  I  got  along 
somehow,  an'  riz  ter  be  a  sort  uv  steamboat  gambler  on  the 
Misippy.     'T  was  thar  I  fust  saw  you,  Mr.  Vance." 

"  On  the  IMississippi !     When  and  where  ?  " 

"  Some  fifteen  yars  ago,  on  boord  the  Pontiac,  jest  afore 
she  blowed  up." 

"  Indeed !  I  've  no  recollection  of  meeting  you." 

"  Don't  yer  remember  Kunnle  D'lancy  Hyde  ?  " 

"  Perfectly." 

"  Wall,  I  war  his  shadder.  He  could  n't  go  nowhar  I  did  n't 
foUer.  K  he  took  snuff,  I  sneezed.  If  he  got  drunk,  I 
staggered.  Don't  yer  remember  a  darkish,  long-haired  feller, 
he  called  Quattles  ?  " 

"  Ai-e  you  that  man  ? "  exclaimed  Vance,  restraining  his 
emotion. 

'•  I  'm  nobody  else,  IVIi*.  Vance,  an'  it  ain't  fur  nothin'  I  've 

*  General  Ullmann  writes  from  New  Orleans,  June  6,  1863,  to  Governor 
Andrew:  "Every  man  (ft-eed  negro)  presenting  himself  to  be  recruited, 
strips  to  the  skin.  My  surgeons  report  to  me  that  not  one  in  fifteen  is  free 
from  marks  of  severe  lashing.  More  than  one  half  are  rejected  because  of 
disability  from  lashing  with  whips,  and  the  biting  of  dogs  on  calves  and 
thighs.  It  is  frightful.  Hundreds  have  welts  on  their  backs  as  large  as  one 
of  your  largest  fingers." 


CONFESSIONS  OF  A  MEAN  WHITE.  243 

got  yer  here  to  bar  what  I  've  ter  tell.  Ef  I  don't  stop  to  say 
I  'm  sorry  for  the  mean  things  I  done,  't  aiut  'cause  I  hain't  some 
shame  'bout  it,  but  'cause  time's  short.  When  the  Pontiac 
bio  wed  up,  I  an'  the  Kunnle  (he 's  'bout  as  much  uv  a  kunnle 
as  I'm  uv  a  bishop),  we  found  ou'selves  on  that  part  uv  the 
boat  whar  least  damage  was  did.  We  was  purty  well  corned, 
for  we  'd  been  drinkin'  some,  but  the  smash-up  sobered  us.  The 
Kunnle's  fust  thowt  was  fur  his  niggers.  Says  I :  '  Let  the 
niggers  slide.  We  sh'll  be  almighty  lucky  ef  we  keep  out  of 
heU  ou'selves.'     'T  was  ev'ry  man  for  hisself,  yer  know." 

"  Were  you  on  the  forward  part  of  the  wreck  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Vance,  an'  it  soon  began  ter  sink.  Poor  critters, 
men  an'  women,  some  scalded,  some  strugglin'  in  the  water, 
war  cryin''  for  help.     The  Kunnle  an'  I  — " 

"  Stop  a  moment,"  said  Vance  ;  and,  dramug  out  paper  and 
pencil,  he  made  copious  notes. 

"  As  I  war  sayin',  Mr.  Vance,  the  Kunnle  an'  I  got  four  life- 
presarvin'  stools,  lahshed  'em  together,  an'  begun  ter  make  off 
for  the  shore.  Says  I,  '  We  owt  ter  save  one  uv  those  women 
folks.'  A  yaller  gal,  with  a  white  child  in  her  arms,  was 
screamin'  out  for  us  to  take  her  an'  the  child.  Jest  then  she 
got  a  blow  on  the  head  from  a  block  that  fell  from  one  uv  the 
masts.  It  seemed  ter  make  her  wild,  an'  she  dropped  inter  the 
water,  but  held  on  tight  ter  the  young  'un.  Says  the  Kunnle 
to  me,  says  he,  '  Now,  Cappn,  you  take  the  gal,  an'  I  '11  take 
the  bebby.'  An'  so  we  done  it,  and  all  got  ashore  safe.  We 
lahnded  on  the  Tennessee  side.  The  sun  hahd  n't  riz,  but 't  was 
jest  light  enough  ter  see.  We  made  tracks  away  from  the 
river  till  we  kum  ter  a  nigger's  desarted  hut,  out  of  sight 
'tween  two  hills.  Thar  we  left  the  yaller  gal  and  the  bebby. 
The  gal  seemed  kind  o'  crazy ;  so  we  fastened  'em  in." 

"  And  the  child  ?  "  asked  Vance.  "  Did  you  know  whose  it 
was?" 

"  O  yes,  I  knowed  it,  'cause  I  'd  seen  the  yaller  gal  more  'n 
a  dozen  times,  off  an'  on,  leadin'  the  little  thing  about.  The 
Berwicks,  a  North'n  family,  was  the  parrents.  Wall,  the 
Kunnle  an'  I,  we  went  hack  ter  the  river  to  see  what  was 
goin'  on.  The  sun  was  up  now.  The  Champion  hahd  turned 
back  t<>  give  help.     Poor  critters  war  dyin'  all  round  from 


244  PECULIAR. 

scalds  and  bruises.  All  at  wunst  tlie  Kunnle  an'  I  kum  upon 
a  crowd  round  Mr.  Berwick,  who  lay  thar  on  the  ground  bahdly 
wounded.  His  wife  lay  dead  close  by.  He  kept  askin'  fur 
his  child.  A  feller  named  Burgess  told  him  he  seed  the  yaller 
gal  an'  child  go  overboord,  an'  that  they  must  have  drownded. 
Prehaps  he  did  see  'em  in  the  water,  but  he  did  n't  see  us  pick 
'em  up.  Old  Onslow  he  said  he  an'  his  boy  had  sarched  ev'ry- 
whar,  but  could  n't  find  the  child  nowhar.  They  b'leeved  she 
was  drownded.     A  di'op  uv  water,  jMi*.  Vance." 

"And  didn't  you  undeceive  them?"  asked  Vance,  giving 
the  water. 

"  No,  Mr.  Vance.  The  Kunnle  seed  a  prize  in  that  yaller 
gal,  and  the  Devil  put  an  idee  inter  his  head.  Says  the  Kunnle 
to  me,  says  he,  '  Now  foUer  yer  leader,  Cappn.'  (He  used  ter 
call  me  Cappn.)  ^  Swar  jest  as  yer  har  me  swar.'  Then  up 
he  steps  an'  says  to  Mr.  Onslow,  '  Judge,  it 's  all  true  what  Mr. 
Burgess  says ;  the  yaller  gal,  with  the  child  in  her  arms,  war 
crowded  overboord.  This  gemmleman  an'  I  tried  ter  save 
them.  Ef  we  did  n't,  may  I  be  shot.  We  throAv'd  the  gal  a 
life-presarver,  but  she  couldn't  hold  on,  no  how.  Fust  the 
child  went  under,  an'  we  was  so  chilled  we  could  n't  save  it.' 
Then  the  gal  let  go  her  grip  uv  the  stool  an'  sunk.  'T  war  as 
much  as  we  could  do  ter  git  ashore  ou'selves.' " 

"  Did  the  judge  put  you  to  your  oaths  ?  "  asked  Vance. 

"  Yes,  JVIr.  Vance.  He  swai-'d  us  both ;  then  writ  down  all 
we  said,  read  it  over  ter  us,  and  we  put  our  names  ter  it,  an* 
't  was  witnessed  all  right.  The  feller  Burgess  bahcked  us  up  by 
sayin'  he  see  us  in  the  water  jest  afore  the  gal  fell,  which  was 
all  true.  It  seemed  a  plain  case.  The  judge  tell'd  it  all  ter 
Mr.  Berwick,  an'  he  growed  sort  o'  wild,  an'  died  soon  arter. 
What  bekummed  of  you  all  that  time,  iMi'.  Vance  ?  " 

"  I  landed  on  the  Arkansas  side,"  said  Vance.  "  I  supposed 
the  Berwick  family  all  lost.  The  bodies  of  the  parents  I  saw 
and  identified,  and  Bm-gess  told  me  he  'd  talked  Avith  two  men 
who  saw  the  child  go  dowai." 

"  Wall,  lSh\  Vance.  Thar  ain't  much  more  uv  a  story.  We 
went  ter  Memphis.  The  Kunnle  swelled  round  consid'rable, 
and  got  his  name  inter  the  newspapers.  But  the  yuller  gal 
she  was  soit  o'  cracked-brained.     She  wai-  no  use  ter  us  or  ter 


CONFESSIONS  OF  A  MEAN  WHITE.  245 

the  child.  The  Kuiinle  got  low-sperreted.  He  'd  made  a  bad 
spec,  ahter  all.  He  'd  lost  his  niggers  ;  an'  the  yuller  gal,  she 
as  he  hoped  ter  sell  in  Noo  Orleenz  fur  sixteen  hunderd  dol- 
lars, she  turned  out  a  fool.  Howzomever,  he  found  a  lightish, 
genteel  sort  uv  a  nigger,  a  quack  doctor,  who  took  her  off  our 
hands.  He  said  as  how  she  mowt  be  'panned  an'  made  as  good 
as  noo." 

"  And  what  did  you  do  with  the  child  ?  " 

"  Wall,  another  bright  idee  hahd  struck  the  Kunnle.  Says 
he,  '  Color  this  young  'un  up  a  little,  and  she  'd  bring  risin'  uv 
four  hunderd  dollars  at  a  vahndoo.  Any  mahn,  used  ter  buyin' 
niggers,  would  see  at  wunst  she  'd  grow  up  ter  be  a  val'able 
fancy  article.  Ef  I  could  afford  it,  I  'd  hold  her  on  spekilation 
till  she  war  fifteen.'  Wall,  Mr.  Vance,  uv  all  the  mean  things 
I  ever  done,  the  meanest  was  to  let  the  Kunnle,  whan  we  got 
ter  Noo  Orleenz,  take  that  poor  little  patient  thing,  as  I  had 
toted  all  the  way  down  from  Memphis,  an'  sell  her  ter  the 
highest  bidder." 

With  an  irrepressible  groan,  Vance  walked  to  the  window. 
When  he  returned,  he  looked  with  pity  on  Quattles,  and  said, 
"  Proceed ! " 

"  Yer  see,  Mr.  Vance,  I  owed  the  Kunnle  two  hunderd  dol- 
lars, he  'd  won  from  me  at  euchre.  He  offered  ter  make  it 
squar  ef  I  'd  give  up  my  int'rest  in  the  child.  Wall,  I  'd  got 
kind  o'  fond  uv  the  little  thing ;  an*  't  was  n't  tiU  I  got  blind 
drunk  on  't  that  I  could  bring  my  mind  ter  say  yes.  The  thowt 
uv  what  I  done  that  day  has  kept  me  drunk  most  ever  sence. 
But  the  Kunnle,  he  tried  to  comfort  me  like.  Says  he,  '  The 
child  was  fairly  oum,  seein'  as  how  we  saved  it  from  drownin'.' 
*  Don't  take  on  so,  old  feller,'  says  he.  *  Think  yerself  lucky 
ef  yer  hahv  n't  nothin'  wuss  nor  that  agin  yerself.'  But 't  was 
no  go.  He  never  could  make  me  hold  up  my  head  agin  like 
as  I  used  ter  ;  an'  we  two  cut  adrift,  an'  hain't  kept  'count  uv 
each  other  sence." 

"  How  did  he  dispose  of  the  child  ?  " 

"  He  stained  her  skin  till  she  looked  like  a  half  mulatter,  an' 
then  he  jesf  got  Ripper,  the  auctioneer,  ter  sell  her." 

"Who  bought  the  child?" 

"  Wall,  Cash  bowt  her.  That 's  all  I  ever  could  find  out. 
Ef  Ripper  knowod  more,  he  would  n't  tell." 


246  PECULIAR. 

"  To  whom  did  you  sell  the  yellow  girl  ?  '* 
"  We  did  n't  sell  her  at  all.     Was  glad  to  git  her  off  our 
hahnds  at  no  pnce.     The  chap  what  took  her  cjilled  hisself  Dr. 
Davy.     He  was  a  free  nigger,  a  trav'lin'  quack,  —  one  of  those 
fellers  that  'tises  to  cure  ev'ry  thing." 

"  Wlien  did  you  last  hear  of  him  ?  " 

"  The  last  I  heerd  tell  uv  Davy,  he  war  in  Natchez,  and  that 
war  five  years  ago." 

"  What  became  of  the  yellow  girl  ?  " 

"  Wall,  thai'  's  a  quar  story  'bout  that.  Whan  we  fust  saw 
that  air  gal  on  the  wreck,  she  was  callin'  out  ter  us,  *  Take  me 
an'  the  child  with  yer  ! '  She  said  it  wunst,  an'  hahd  jest  begun 
ter  say  it  again,  an'  hahd  got  as  fur  as  Take,  whan  the  block 
hit  her  on  the  head,  an'  she  fell  inter  the  water.  Wall,  six 
months  ahter,  Davy  took  that  air  gal  ter  a  surgeon  in  Philadel- 
phy,  an'  hahd  her  'panned ;  an'  jest  as  the  crushed  bone  war 
lifted  from  the  brain,  that  gal  cried  out,  '  —  me  an'  the  child 
with  yer  ! '  Shoot  me  ef  she  did  n't  finish  the  cry  she  'd  begun 
jest  six  months  afore.*  She  got  back  her  senses  aU  straight, 
an'  Davy  made  her  his  wdfe." 

"  Did  you  keep  anything  that  belonged  to  the  child  ?  " 

"  Jest  you  feel  in  the  pockets  uv  them  pants  under  my  piller, 
and  git  out  my  pus." 

Vance  obeyed,  and  drew  forth  a  small  bag  of  wash-leather. 
This  he  emptied  on  the  coverlet,  the  contents  being  a  few 
dimes  and  five-cent  pieces,  a  tonga-bean,  and  a  smaU  pill-box 
covered  with  cotton-wool  and  tied  round  with  twine. 

"  Thar !    Open  that  ar'  box,"  said  the  patient. 

Vance  opened  it,  and  took  out  a  paii'  of  little  sleeve-buttons, 
gold  with  a  setting  of  coral.  Examining  them,  he  found  on  the 
under  surface  the  inscription  C.  A.  B.  in  diminutive  characters. 

"  I  '11  tell  you  how  't  was,"  said  the  wounded  man.  "  That 
night  of  the  'splosion  the  yuller  gal  an'  the  child  must  have 
gone  ter  bed  without  ondi-essin' ;  for  they  'd  thar  cloze  all  on. 

*  Abercrombie  relates  au  authenticated  case  of  the  same  kind.  A  wood- 
man, while  employed  with  his  axe,  was  hit  on  the  head  by  a  falling  tree.  He 
remained  in  a  semi-comatose  state  for  a  whole  year.  On  being  trepanned,  he 
uttered  an  exclamation  which  was  found  to  be  the  completion  of  the  sentence 
he  had  been  in  the  act  of  uttering  when  struck  twelve  months  before. 


CONFESSIONS  OF  A  MEAN  WHITE.  247 

Most  like  the  gal  fell  asleep  an'  forgot.  Soon  as  we  touched 
the  shore,  the  Kunnle  says  ter  me,  says  he,  '  Cap'n,  you  cahrry 
the  child,  an'  I  '11  pilot  the  gal.'  Wall ;  I  took  the  child  in  my 
arms,  an'  as  I  cahrr'd  her,  I  seed  she  wore  gold  buttons  on  the 
sleeves  uv  her  little  pelisse,  —  a  pair  on  each ;  an',  thinks  I, 
the  Kunnle  will  pocket  them  buttons  sure.  So  I  pocketed  'em 
myself;  but  whan  it  kum  to  partin'  with  the  child,  I  jest  took 
one  pair  uv  the  buttons,  an  sowd  'em  on  inside  uv  the  bosom  uv 
her  little  shirt  whar  they  would  n't  be  seen.  The  other  pair  is 
that  thar.     Take  'em  an'  keep  'em,  Mr.  Vance." 

"  Have  you  any  article  of  clothing  belonging  to  her  ?  " 
"  Not  a  rag,  Mr.  Vance.     They  all  went  with  her." 
"  Did  you  notice  any  mark  on  the  clothes  ?  " 
"  Yes,  they  was  marked  C.  A.  B.,  m  letters  worked  in  hahn- 
sum  with  white  silk." 

"  Was  that  the  kind  of  letter  ?  "  asked  Vance,  who,  having 
dra^vn  the  cipher  in  old  English,  held  it  before  the  patient's 
eyes. 

"  Yes,  them  's  um.  I  remember,  'cause  I  used  ter  ondress  the 
child.  An',  now  I  think  uv  it,  one  uv  her  eyes  was  bluish,  an' 
t'  other  grayish." 

""^Vliat  day  was  it  you  parted  with  the  child  .^" 
"The  same  day  she  was  sold." 
"When  was  that?" 

"  It  must  have  been  in  May  foUerin'  the  'splosion.  Lem 
me  see.  'T  was  that  day  I  got  the  pill-box.  I  'd  been  ter 
the  doctor's  fur  some  physickin'  stuff.  He  give  me  a  pre- 
scrip,  an'  I  went  an'  got  some  pills  in  that  air  box,  an'  then 
throwed  the  pills  away  an'  kept  the  box." 

Vance  glanced  at  the  cover.  The  apothecary's  name  and 
the  number  of  the  prescription  were  legible.  Vance  put  the 
box  in  his  pocket. 

"  Can't  yer  think  uv  su'thin'  else  ?  "  asked  Quattles. 

"  Only  this,"  replied  Vance :  "  How  shall  I  manage  Hyde  ?  " 

"  Wall,  ef  the  Kunnle  sh'd  hold  up  his  milk,  you  jest  say  ter 

him  these  eer  words  :  '  Dorothy  Rusk  must  be  provided  for. 

What  kn  I  do  fur  her  ? '     The  widder  Rusk  is  his  sister,  yer 

see,  an'  that 's  the  one  soft  spot  the  Kunnle's  got." 

Vance  carefully  recorded  the  mysterious  words ;  then  asked, 


248  PECULIAR. 

"Do  you  remember  Peek,  the  runaway  slave  Hyde  had  in 
charge  ?  " 

"  In  coorse  I  do,"  said  Quattles,  t\visting  with  pain  from 
his  wound.  "  Should  you  ever  see  that  nigger,  Mr.  Vance,  tell 
him  that  Amos  Slink,  St.  Joseph  Street,  kn  tell  liim  su'thing' 
'bout  his  wife.  Amos  wunst  tell  'd  me  how  he  'coyed  her  down 
from  Montreal.  'T  was  through  that  same  lawyer  chap  that 
kum  it  over  Peek." 

"  Can  Amos  identify  you  as  the  Quattles  of  the  Pontiac  ?  " 

"  In  coorse  he  can,  for  he  knowed  all  'bout  me  at  the  time." 

"  And  now,  my  friend,  I  wish  to  have  this  testimony  of  yours 
sworn  to  and  witnessed ;  but  I  'm  overtasking  your  strength." 

"  Do  it,  jMr.  Vance.  Help  me  ter  lose  my  strength,  ef  yer 
think  I  kn  do  any  good  tellin'  the  truth." 

"  Can  you  get  along  without  this  opiate  two  hours  longer  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Vance,  I  kn  do  without  it  altogether." 

"  Then  I  *11  leave  you  for  two  hours." 

"  One  word,  INir.  Vance." 

«  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  Did  yer  ever  pray  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  every  man  prays  who  tries  to  do  good  or  undo  evil. 
You  've  been  praying  for  the  last  hour,  my  friend." 

"  How  did  yer  know  that  ?  I  've  been  thinkin'  of  it,  that 's 
a  fak.  But  I  'm  not  up  to  it,  Mr.  Vance.  Could  you  pray  for 
mff  jest  thi-ee  minutes  ?  " 

"  Willingly,  my  poor  fellow." 

And  kneeling  at  the  little  cot,  Vance,  holding  a  hand  of  the 
sufferer,  prayed  for  him  so  tenderly,  so  fervently,  and  so  search- 
ingly  withal,  that  the  poor  dying  outcast  wept  as  he  had  never 
wept  before.  O  precious  tears,  parting  the  mist  that  hung  up- 
on his  future  (even  as  clouds  are  parted  that  hide  the  sunset's 
glories),  and  revealing  to  his  spiritual  eyes  new  possibilities  of 
being,  fruits  of  repentance,  through  a  mercy  which  (God  be 
thanked  !)  is  not  measured  by  the  mercy  of  men. 

Leaving  the  hospital,  Vance  stepped  into  an  office,  and  drew 
up,  in  the  form  of  a  deposition,  all  the  facts  elicited  from  Quat- 
tles. His  next  step  was  to  find  Amos  Slink.  That  gentleman 
had  settled  down  in  the  second-hand  clotliing  business.  Vance 
made  a  liberal  purchase  of  hospital  clothing ;  and  then  adverted 


CONFESSIONS  OF  A  MEAN  WHITE.  249 

to  the  past  exploits  of  Amos  in  the  "nigger-catching"  line. 
Amos  proudly  produced  letters  to  authenticate  his  prowess. 
They  bore  the  signature  of  Charlton.  ''  I  want  you  to  lend 
me  those  letters,  Mr.  SHnk." 

"  Could  n't  do  it,  Mr.  Vance.  Them  letters  I  mean  to  hand 
down  to  my  children." 

"  Well,  it 's  of  no  consequence.  I  '11  go  into  the  next  store 
for  the  rest  of  my  goods." 

"  Don't  think  of  it.  Here  !  take  the  letters.  Only  return  'em." 
Vance  not  only  secured  the  letters,  but  got  Mr.  Slink  to  go 
with  him  to  the  hospital  to  identify  Quattles. 

Then,  on  his  way,  enlisting  three  friends  who  were  good 
Union  men,  one  of  them  being  a  justice  of  the  peace,  Vance 
led  them  where  the  wounded  man  lay.  Slink,  who  was  known 
to  the  parties,  identified  the  patient  as  the  Mr.  Quattles  of  the 
Pontiac;  and  the  identification  was  duly  recorded  and  sworn 
to.  Vance  then  read  his  notes  aloud  to  Quattles,  whose  com- 
petency to  listen  and  understand  was  formally  attested  by  the 
surgeon.  The  justice  administered  the  oath.  Quattles  put  his 
name  to  the  document,  and  the  signature  was  duly  witnessed 
by  all  present. 

No  sooner  was  the  act  completed  than  the  patient  sank  into 
unconsciousness.  "  He  '11  not  rally  again,"  said  the  surgeon. 
A  quick,  heavy  breathing,  gradually  growing  faint  and  fainter, 
•—  and  lo !  there  was  a  smile  on  the  face,  but  the  spirit  that 
had  left  it  there  had  fled  ! 

^  Vance  first  went  to  the  apothecary  whose  name  was  on  the 
pp-box.  «  Did  Mr.  Gargle  keep  the  books  in  which  he  pasted 
his  prescriptions?" 

"  Yes,  he  had  them  for  twenty  years  back." 
« Would  he  look  in  the  volume  for   18—,  for  a  certain 
nmnber  ?  " 
"  WiUingly." 

In  two  minutes  the  number  was  found,  and  the  day  of  the 
prescription  fixed.  Vance  then  proceeded  to  the  office  of 
L'Abeille,  turned  to  the  newspaper  of  that  day,  and  there,  in 
the  advertising  columns,  found  a  sale  advertised  by  P.  Ripper 
&  Co.,  auctioneers.  It  was  a  sale  of  a  "  lot "  of  negroes  ;  and 
as  a  sort  of  postscript  to  the  specifications  was  the  following :  — 
11* 


250  PECULIAR. 

"  Also,  one  very  promising  little  girl,  an  oi'phan,  two  years 
old,  almost  white  ;  can  take  care  of  herself ;  promises  to  be 
very  pretty  ;  has  straight,  brown  hair,  regular  features,  first- 
rate  figure.  Warranted  sound  and  healthy.  Amateurs  who 
would  like  to  train  up  a  companion  to  their  tastes  will  find  this 
a  raxe  opportunity  to  purchase." 

Not  pausing  to  indulge  the  emotions  which  these  cruel  words 
awoke,  Vance  went  in  search  of  Ripper  &  Co.  The  firm  had 
been  broken  up  more  than  ten  years  before.  Not  one  of  the 
partners  was  in  the  city.  They  had  disappeared,  and  left  no 
trace.  Were  any  of  their  old  account-books  in  the  warehouse  ? 
No.  The  building  had  been  burnt  to  the  ground,  and  a  new 
one  erected  on  its  site. 

"  Where  next  ?  "  thought  Vance.  "  Plainly  to  Natchez,  to 
see  if  I  can  leam  anything  of  Davy  and  his  wife." 


MEETINGS  AND  PARTINGS.  251 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

MEETINGS  AND  PARTINGS. 


"  I  hold  it  true,  whate'er  befall,  — 
I  feel  it  when  I  sorrow  most,  — r 
'T  is  better  to  have  loved  and  lost 
Than  never  to  have  loved  at  all." 

Tennyson. 


IT  being  too  late  to  take  the  boat  for  Natchez,  Vance  pro- 
ceeded to  the  St.  Charles.  The  gong  for  the  fire  o'clock 
ordinaiy  had  sounded.  Entering  the  dining-hall,  he  was  about 
taking  a  seat,  when  he  saw  Miss  Tremaine  motioning  to  him 
to  occupy  one  vacant  by  her  side. 

"  Truly  an  enterprising  young  lady ! "  But  what  could 
he  do? 

"  I  'm  so  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Vance !  I  Ve  not  forgotten 
my  promise.  I  called  to-day  on  Mrs.  Gentry,  —  found  her  in 
the  depths.  Miss  Murray  has  disappeared,  —  absconded,  — 
nobody  knows  where  ! " 

"  Indeed !  After  what  you  've  said  of  her  singing,  I  'm  very 
anxious  to  hear  her.     Do  try  to  find  her." 

"  I  '11  do  what  I  can,  Mr.  Vance.  There 's  a  mystery.  Of 
that  much  I  'm  persuaded  from  IVIi'S.  Gentry's  manner." 

"  You  mustn't  mind  Darling's  notions  on  slavery." 

"  O  no,  Mr.  Vance,  I  shall  turn  her  over  to  you  for  con- 
version." 

"  Should  you  succeed  in  entrapping  her,  detain  her  till  I 
come  back  from  Natchez,  which  will  be  before  Sunday." 

"  Be  sure  I'll  hold  on  to  her." 

Mr.  Tremaine  came  in,  and  began  to  talk  politics.  Vance 
was  soiTy  he  had  an  engagement.  The  big  clock  of  the  hall 
pointed  to  seven  o'clock.     He  rose,  bowed,  and  left. 

"  Why,"  sighed  Laura,  "  can't  other  gentlemen  be  as  agree- 
able as  this  IVIr.  Vance  ?  He  knows  all  about  the  latest  fash- 
ions ;  all  about  modes  of  fixing  the  hair ;  all  about  music  and 


252  PECULIAR. 

dancing  ;  all  about  the  opera  and  the  theatre  ;  in  short,  what  is 
there  the  man  does  n't  know  ?  " 

Papa  was  too  absorbed  in  his  terrapin  soup  to  answer. 

Let  us  follow  Vance  to  the  little  house,  scene  of  his  brief, 
fugitive  days  of  delight.  He  stood  under  the  old  magnolia  in 
the  tender  moonlight.  The  gas  was  down  in  Clara's  room. 
She  was  at  the  piano,  extemporizing  some  low  and  plaintive 
variations  on  a  melody  by  Moore,  "  When  twilight  dews  are 
falling  soft."  Suddenly  she  stopped,  and  put  up  the  gas. 
There  was  a  knock  at  her  door.  She  opened  it,  and  saw 
Vance.     They  shook  hands  as  if  they  were  old  friends. 

"  Where  are  the  Bernards  ?  " 

"  They  are  out  promenading.     I  told  them  I  was  not  afi.*aid." 

"  How  have  you  passed  your  time,  ]\Iiss  Perdita  ?  " 

"  O,  I  've  not  been  idle.  Such  choice  books  as  you  have 
here  !    And  then  what  a  variety  of  music  !  " 

"  Have  you  studied  any  of  the  pieces  ?  " 

«  Not  many.     That  from  Schubert." 

"  Please  play  it  for  me." 

Tacitly  accepting  him  as  her  teacher,  she  played  it  without 
embaiTassment.  Vance  checked  her  here  and  there,  and  sug- 
gested a  change.  He  uttered  no  other  word  of  praise  than  to 
say :  "  If  you  '11  practise  six  years  longer  four  hours  a  day, 
you  '11  be  a  player." 

"  I  shaU  do  it !  "  said  Qara. 

"  Have  you  heard  that  famous  Hallelujah  Chorus,  which  the 
Northern  soldiei-s  sing  ?  " 

"  No,  'Mr.  Vance." 

"  No  ?  Why,  't  is  in  honor  of  John  Brown  (any  relation  of 
Perdita  ?)    You  shaU  hear  it." 

And  he  played  the  well-known  air,  now  appropriated  by  the 
hand-organs.  Clai-a  asked  for  a  repetition,  that  she  might 
remember  it. 

"  Sing  me  something,"  he  said. 

Clai-a  placed  on  the  reading-frame  the  song  of  "  Pestal." 

"  Not  that,  Perdita  !    What  possessed  you  to  study  that? " 

"  It  suited  my  mood.     Will  you  not  hear  it  ?  " 

"  No !  .  .  .  .  Yes,  Perdita.  Pardon  my  abruptness.  But 
that  song  was  the  first  I  ever  heard  from  lips,  O  so  fail'  and 
dear  to  me !  " 


MEETINGS  AND  PARTINGS.  253 

Clara  put  aside  the  music,  and  walked  away  toward  the 
window.  Vance  went  up  to  her.  He  could  see  that  she  was 
with  difficulty  curbing  her  teai-s. 

O,  if  this  man  whose  very  presence  inspired  such  confidence 
and  hope,  —  if  it  was  sweeter  to  him  to  remember  another  than 
to  listen  to  her,  —  where  in  the  wide  world  should  she  find,  in 
her  desperate  strait, -a  friend  ? 

There  was  that  in  her  attitude  which  reminded  Vance  of 
Estelle.  Some  lemon-blossoms  in  her  hair  intensified  the  asso- 
ciation by  their  odors.  For  a  moment  it  was  as  if  he  had 
thrown  off  the  burden  of  twenty  years,  and  was  living  over,  in 
Clara's  presence,  that  ambrosial  hour  of  fii'st  love  on  the  very 
spot  of  its  birth.  "  For  O,  she  stood  beside  him  like  his 
youth,  —  transformed  for  him  the  real  to  a  di^eam,  clothing 
the  palpable  and  the  familiar  with  golden  exhalations  of  the 
dawn!"  Be  wary,  Vance!  One  look,  one  tone  amiss,  and 
there  '11  be  danger ! 

"  Let  us  talk  over  your  affairs,"  he  said.  "  To-morrow  I 
must  leave  for  Natchez.  Will  you  remain  here  till  I  come 
back?" 

Clara  leaned  out  of  the  window  a  moment,  as  if  to  enjoy  the 
balmy  evening,  and  then,  calmly  taking  a  seat,  replied :  "  I 
think  't  wUl  be  best  for  me  to  lay  my  case  before  INIiss  Tre- 
maine.  True,  we  parted  in  a  pet,  but  she  may  not  be  impla- 
cable. Yes,  I  will  call  on  her.  To  you,  a  stranger,  what  return 
for  your  kindness  can  I  make  ?  " 

"  This  return,  Perdita :  let  me  be  your  friend.  As  soon  as 
't  is  discovered  you  've  no  money,  your  position  may  become  a 
painful  one.  Let  me  supply  you  with  funds.  I  'm  rich  ;  and 
my  only  heir  is  my  country." 

"  No,  Mr.  Vance  !  I  've  no  claim  upon  you,  —  none  whatever. 
What  I  want  for  the  moment  is  a  shelter ;  and  Laura  will  give 
me  that,  I  'm  confident." 

Vance  reflected  a  moment,  and  then,  as  if  a  plan  had  occurred 
to  him  by  which  he  could  provide  for  her  without  her  knowing 
it,  he  replied  •"We  shall  probably  meet  at  the  St.  Charles. 
You  can  easily  send  for  me,  should  you  require  my  help.  Be 
generous,  and  say  you  '11  notify  me,  should  there  be  an  hour  of 
need?" 


254  PECULIAR. 

"  I  '11  not  fail  to  remember  you  in  that  event,  Mr.  Vance." 

«  Honor  bright  ?  " 

"  Honor  bright,  Mr.  Vance  ! " 

"  Consider,  Perdita,  you  can  always  find  a  home  in  this 
house.  I  shall  give  such  directioas  to  ISIrs.  Bernard  as  will 
make  your  presence  welcome." 

"  Then  I  shall  not  feel  utterly  homeless.  Thank  you,  IMr. 
Vance ! " 

"  And  by  the  way,  Perdita,  do  not  let  Miss  Tremaine  know 
that  we  are  acquainted." 

"  I  '11  heed  youi*  caution,  Mr.  Vance." 

"  We  shall  meet  again,  my  dear  young  lady.  Of  that  I  feel 
assured." 

"  I  hope  so,  Mr.  Vance." 

"  And  now  farewell !  I  '11  tell  Bernard  to  order  a  carriage 
and  attend  to  your  baggage.     Good  by,  Perdita !  " 

"  Good  by,  Mr.  Vance." 

Again  they  shook  hands,  and  parted.  Vance  gave  his 
du-ections  to  the  Bernards,  and  then  strolled  home  to  his  hotel. 
As  he  traversed  the  corridor  leading  to  his  room,  he  encoun- 
tered Kenrick.     Their  apartments  were  nearly  opposite. 

"I  was  not  aware  we  were  such  near  neighbors,  IVIr. 
Kenrick." 

"  To  me  also  't  is  a  surprise,  —  and  a  pleasant  one.  Will 
you  walk  in,  ISIx.  Vance  ?  " 

"  Yes,  if  't  is  not  past  your  hour  for  visitors." 

They  went  in,  and  Kenrick  put  up  the  gas.  "I  can't 
offer  you  either  cigars  or  whiskey  ;  but  you  can  ring  for  what 
you  want." 

"  Is  it  possible  you  eschew  alcohol  and  tobacco  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  repHed  Kenrick ;  "  I  once  indulged  in  cigars.  But 
I  found  the  use  so  offensive  in  others  that  I  myself  abandoned 
it  in  disgust.  One  sits  down  to  converse  with  a  person 
disguised  as  a  gentleman,  and  suddenly  a  fume,  as  if  from  the 
essence  of  old  tobacco-pipes,  mixed  with  odors  from  stale 
brandy-bottles,  poisons  the  innocent  air,  and  alm^t  knocks  one 
down.  It 's  a  mystery  that  ladies  endure  the  nuisance  of  such 
breaths.  My  sensitive  nose  has  made  me  an  anti-rum,  anti- 
tobacco  man." 


MEETINGS  AND  PARTINGS.  255 

"  But  I  fear  me  you  're  a  come-outer,  Mr.  Kenrick !  Is  it 
conservative  to  abuse  tobacco  and  whiskey  ?  No  wonder  you 
are  unsound  on  the  slavery  question !  " 

"Come  up  to  the  confessional,  Mr.  Vance!  Admit  that 
you  're  as  much  of  an  antislavery  man  as  I  am." 

"  More,  Mr.  Kenrick !  If  I  were  not,  I  might  be  quite  as 
imprudent  as  you.  And  then  I  should  put  a  stop  to  my 
usefulness." 

"  You  puzzle  me,  Mr.  Vance." 

"Not  as  much  as  you've  puzzled  me,  my  young  friend. 
Come  here,  and  look  in  the  mirror  with  me." 

Vance  took  him  by  the  hand  and  led  him  to  a  full-length 
looking-glass.     There  they  stood  looking  at  their  reflections. 

"  What  do  you  see  ?  "  asked  Vance. 

"  Two  rather  personable  fellows,"  replied  Kenrick,  laughing ; 
"one  of  them  ten  or  twelve  years  'older  than  the  other; 
height  of  the  two,  about  the  same ;  figures  very  much  alike, 
inclining  to  slimness,  but  compact,  erect,  well-knit ;  hands  and 
feet  small ;  heads,  —  I  have  no  fault  to  find  with  the  shape  or 
size  of  either ;  hair  similar  in  color ;  eyes,  —  as  near  as  I  can 
see,  the  two  pairs  resemble  each  other,  and  the  crow's-feet  at 
the  corners  are  the  same  in  each;  features,  —  nose,  —  brows 
—  I  see  why  you  've  brought  me  here,  IMr.  Vance  !  We  are 
enough  alike  to  be  brothers." 

"Can  you  explain  the  mystery?"  asked  Vance,  "for  I 
can't.  Can  there  be  any  family  relationship  ?  I  had  an  aunt, 
now  deceased,  who  was  married  to  a  Louisianian.  But  his 
name  was  not  Kenrick." 

"What  was  it?" 

"Arthur  Maclain." 

"My  father!  Cousin,  your  hand!  In  order  to  inherit 
property,  my  father,  after  his  marriage,  procured  a  change  of 
name.  I  can't  tell  you  how  pleasant  to  me  it  is  to  meet  one 
of  my  mother's  relations." 

They  had  come  together  still  more  akin  in  spirit  than  in 
blood.  The  night  was  all  too  short  for  the  confidences  they 
now  poured  out  to  each  other.  Vance  told  his  whole  story, 
pausing  occasionally  to  calm  down  the  excitement  which  the 
narrative  caused  in  his  hearer. 


256  PECULIAR. 

When  it  was  finished  Kenrick  said :  "  Cousin,  count  me 
your  ally  in  compassing  your  revenge.  May  God  do  so  to  me, 
and  more  also,  if  I  do  not  give  this  beastly  Slave  Power  blood 
for  blood." 

"I  can't  help  thinking,  Charles,"  said  Yance,  "that  your 
zeal  has  the  purer  origin.  3Ime  sprang  from  a  personal 
experience  of  wrong ;  yours,  from  an  abstract  conception  of 
what  is  just ;  from  those  inner  motives  that  point  to  righteous- 
ness and  God." 

"I  almost  wish  sometimes,"  replied  Kenrick,  "that  I  had 
the  spur  of  a  great  personal  grievance  to  give  body  to  my 
wrath.  And  yet  Slavery,  when  it  lays  its  foul  hand  on  the 
least  of  these  little  ones  ought  to  be  felt  by  me  also,  and  by  all 
men !  But  now  —  now  —  I  shall  not  lack  the  sting  of  a 
personal  incentive.  Your  griefs,  cousin,  fall  on  my  own  heart, 
and  shall  not  find  the  soil  altogether  barren.  This  Ratcliff,  — 
I  know  him  well.  He  has  been  more  than  once  at  our  house. 
A  perfect  type  of  the  sort  of  beast  born  of  slavery,  — 
moulded  as  in  a  matrix  by  slavery,  —  kept  alive  by  slavery ! 
Take  away  slavery,  and  he  would  perish  of  inanition.  He 
would  be,  like  the  plesiosaur,  a  fossil  monster,  representative 
of  an  extinct  genus." 

"  Cousin,"  said  Vance,  "  all  you  lack  is  to  join  the  serpent 
with  the  dove.  Be  content  to  bide  your  time.  Here  in 
Louisiana  lies  your  work.  We  must  make  the  whole  western 
bank  of  the  Mississippi  free  soil.  Texas  can  be  taken  care  of 
in  due  time.  But  with  a  belt  of  freedom  surrounding  the 
Cotton  States,  the  doom  of  slavery  is  fixed.  Give  me  to  see 
that  day,  and  I  shall  be  ready  to  say,  '  Now,  Lord,  dismiss  thy 
servant ! '  " 

"  I  had  intended  to  go  North,  and  join  the  army  of  free- 
dom." said  Kenrick ;  "  but  what  you  say  gives  me  pause." 

"  We  must  not  be  seen  together  much,"  resumed  Vance. 
"  And  now  good  night,  or  rather,  good  morning,  for  there 's  a 
glimmer  in  the  east,  premonitory  of  day.  Ah,  cousin,  when  I 
hear  the  braggarts  around  us,  gassing  about  Confederate  cour- 
age and  Yankee  cowardice,  I  can't  help  recalling  an  old  couplet 
I  used  to  spout,  when  an  actor,  from  a  play  by  Southern,  — 

'  There  is  no  courage  but  in  innocence, 
No  constancy  but  in  an  honest  cause! '  " 


CLARA  MAKES  AN  IMPORTANT  PURCHASE.  257 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

CLARA  MAKES  AN  IMPORTANT  PURCHASE. 

«'  Allow  slavery  to  be  ever  so  humane.  Grant  that  the  man  who  owns  me  is  ever  so 
kind.  The  wrong  of  him  who  presumes  to  talk  of  owning  me  is  too  unmeasured  to  be 
softened  by  kindness." 

LAURA  TREMAINE  had  just  come  in  from  a  drive  with 
her  invalid  mother,  and  stood  in  the  drawing-room  looking 
out  on  a  company  of  soldiers.  There  was  a  knock  at  the  dooi\ 
A  servant  brought  in  a  card.  It  said,  "  Will  Laura  see  Dar- 
ling ?  "  The  arrival,  concm-ring  so  directly  with  Laura's  wishes, 
caused  a  pleasurable  shock.  "  Show  her  in,"  she  said  ;  and  the 
next  moment  the  maidens  were  locked  in  each  other's  embrace. 

"  O,  you  dear  little  good-for-nothing  Darlmg,"  said  Laura, 
after  there  had  been  a  conflux  of  kisses.  "  Could  anything  be 
more  apropos  ?  What 's  the  meaning  of  all  this  ?  Have^'you 
really  absconded?  Is  it  a  love  affair?  Tell  me  all  about  it. 
Rely  on  my  secrecy.     I  '11  be  close  as  bark  to  a  tree." 

"  Will  you  solemnly  promise,"  said  Clara,  "  on  your  honor  as 
a  lady,  not  to  reveal  what  I  tell  you  ?  " 

"  As  I  hope  to  be  saved,  I  promise,"  replied  Laura. 

"  Then  I  will  tell  you  the  cause  of  my  leaving  jVIi-s.  Gentry's. 
Twas  only  day  before  yesterday  she  told  me,  — look  at  me, 
Laura,  and  say  if  I  look  like  it !  —  she  told  me  I  was  a  slave." 

"A  slave?      Lnpossible !      Why,   Darling,  you've  a  com 
plexion  whiter  than  mine." 

"  So  have  many  slaves.  The  hue  of  my  skin  wiU  not  invaU- 
date  a  claim." 

"  That 's  true.     But  who  presumes  to  claim  you  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Carberry  Ratcliff." 

"  A  friend  of  my  father's  !  He  's  very  rich.  I  'U  ask  him 
to  give  you  up.     Let  me  go  to  him  at  once." 

"  No,  Laura,  I  Ve  seen  the  man.  'T  would  be  hopeless  to 
try  to  melt  him.     You  must  help  me  to  get  away." 

Q 


258  PECULIAR. 

"  But  you  do  not  mean,  —  surely  you  do  not  mean  to  — 
to  — " 

"  To  what,  Laura  ?  You  seem  gasping  with  horror  at  some 
frightful  supposition.     What  is  it  ?  " 

"  You  'd  not  think  of  running  off,  would  you  ?  You  would  n't 
ask  me  to  harbor  a  fugitive  slave  ?  " 

Clara  looked  at  the  door.  The  color  flew  to  her  cheek, — 
flamed  up  to  her  forehead.  Her  bosom  heaved.  Emotions  of 
unutterable  detestation  and  disgust  struggled  for  expression. 
But  had  she  not  learnt  the  slave's  first  lesson,  duplicity  ?  Her 
secret  had  been  confided  to  one  who  had  forthwith  showed  her- 
self untrustworthy.  Bred  in  the  heartless  fanaticism  which 
slavery  engenders,  Laura  might  give  the  alarm  and  have  her 
stopped,  should  she  rise  suddenly  to  go.  Farewell,  then,  white- 
robed  Candor,  and  welcome  Dissimulation ! 

After  a  pause,  "  What  do  you  advise  ?  "  said  Clara. 

"  Well,  Dai'ling,  stay  with  me  a  week  or  two,  then  go  quietly 
back  to  ]\L^.  Gentry's,  and  play  the  penitent." 

"  Had  n't  I  better  go  at  once  ?  "  asked  Clara,  simulating 
meekness. 

"  O  no.  Darling  !  I  can't  possibly  permit  that.  Now  I  've 
got  you,  I  shall  hold  on  till  I  've  done  with  you.  Then  we  '11 
see  if  we  can't  persuade  'Mr.  RatclilF  to  free  you.  Who  'd  have 
thought  of  this  little  Darling  being  a  slave  !  " 

"But  hadn't  I  better  write  to  Mrs.  Gentry  and  tell  her 
where  I  am  ?  " 

"  No,  no.  She  '11  only  be  forcing  you  back.  You  shall  do 
nothing  but  stay  here  till  I  tell  you  you  may  go.  You  shall 
play  the  lady  for  one  week,  at  least.  There  's  a  Mr.  Vance  in 
the  house,  to  whom  I  've  spoken  of  your  singing.  He  's  wild 
to  hear  you.  I  've  promised  him  he  shall.  I  would  n't  disap- 
point him  on  any  account." 

Clara  saw  that,  could  she  but  command  courage  to  fall  in 
with  Laura's  selfish  plans,  it  might,  after  all,  be  safer  to  come 
thus  into  the  veiy  focus  of  the  city's  life,  than  to  seek  some 
comer,  penetrable  to  police-officers  aijd  slave-huntere. 

"  How  will  you  manage  ?  "  asked  Clara. 

"  What  more  simple  ?  "  replied  Laura.  "  I  '11  take  you  right 
into   my  sleeping-room ;   you   shall   be  my   schoolmate,  Miss 


CLARA  MAKES  AN  IMP0RTA2IT  PURCHASE.  259 

Brown,  come  to  pass  a  few  days  wdth  me  before  going  to  St. 
Louis.     Papa  will  never  think  of  questioning  my  story." 

"  But  I  Ve  no  dresses  with  me." 

"  No  matter.  I  Ve  a  plenty  I  Ve  outgrown.  They  '11  fit  you 
beautifully.  Come  here  into  my  sleeping-room.  It  adjoins,  you 
see.  There !  We  're  about  of  a  height,  though  I  'm  a  little 
stouter." 

"  It  will  not  be  safe  for  me  to  appear  at  the  public  table." 

"  Well,  you  shall  be  an  invalid,  and  I  '11  send  yom-  meals 
from  the  table  when  I  send  mother's.  -Miss  Brown  from  St. 
Louis  !     Let  me  see.     What  shall  be  your  first  name  ?  " 

"  Let  it  be  Perdita." 

"  Perdita  ?  The  lost  one  !  Good.  How  quick  you  are ! 
Perdita  Brown !  It  does  not  sound  badly.  Mr.  Onslow,  — 
Miss  Brown,  —  Miss  Perdita  Brown  from  St.  Louis  !  Then 
you  '11  courtesy,  and  look  so  demure  !     Won't  it  be  fun  ?  " 

Between  grief  and  anger,  Clara  found  disguise  a  terrible 
effort.  So !  Her  fate  so  dark,  so  tragic,  was  to  be  Laura's 
pastime,  not  the  subject  of  her  grave  and  tender  consideration ! 

Already  had  some  of  the  traits,  congenital  with  slavery, 
begun  to  develop  themselves  in  Clara.  Strategy  now  seemed 
to  her  as  justifiable  under  the  circumstances  as  it  would  be  in 
escaping  from  a  murderer,  a  lunatic,  or  a  wild  beast.  Was  not 
every  pro-slavery  man  or  woman  her  deadly  foe,  —  to  be  cheat- 
ed, cii'cumvented,  robbed,  nay,  if  need  be,  slain,  in  defence  of 
her  own  inalienable  right  of  Uberty  ?  The  thought  that  Laura 
was  such  a  foe  made  Clara  look  on  her  with  precisely  the  same 
feehngs  that  the  exposed  sentinel  might  have  toward  the  lurk- 
ing picket-shooter. 

An  expression  so  strange  flitted  over  Clara's  face,  that  Laura 
asked :  "  What 's  the  matter  ?     Don't  you  feel  weU  ?  " 

Checking  the  exasperation  surging  in  her  heart,  Clara  affect- 
ed frivolity.  "  0,  I  feel  well  enough,"  she  repHed.  "  A  Httle 
tired,  —  that's  all.  What  if  this  Mr.  Onslow  should  fall  in 
love  with  me?" 

"  O,  but  that  would  be  too  good  ! "  exclaimed  Laura.  Be- 
tween you  and  me,  I  owe  him  a  spite.  I  've  just  heard  he  once 
said,  speaking  of  me,  '  Handsome,  —  but  no  depth  ! '  Hang 
the  fellow!     I'd  like  to  punish  him.     He's  proud  as  Lucifer. 


260  PECULIAR. 

Would  n't  it  be  a  joke  to  let  him  fall  in  love  with  a  poor  little 
slave?" 

"  So,  you  don't  mean  to  fall  in  love  with  him  yourself?  " 

"  O  no !  He 's  good-looking,  but  poor.  Can  you  keep  a 
secret  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  I  mean  to  set  my  cap  for  jMt.  Vance." 

"  Possible  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Perdita.  He 's  fine-looking,  of  the  right  age,  very 
rich,  and  so  altogether  fascinating !  Father  learnt  yesterday 
that  he  pays  an  enormous  tax  on  real  estate." 

"  And  is  he  the  only  string  to  your  bow  ?  " 

"  0  no.  But  our  best  young  men  are  in  the  army.  Onslow 
is  a  captain.  0,  I  must  n't  forget  Charles  Kenrick.  Onslow 
is  to  bring  him  here.  Kem-ick's  father  owns  a  whole  brigade 
of  slaves.  Hark  !  Dear  me  !  That  was  two  o'clock.  Will 
you  have  luncheon  ?  " 

"  No,  thank  you.     I  'm  not  hungry." 

"  Then  I  must  leave  you.  I've  an  appointment  with  my 
dressmaker.  In  the  lower  di'awers  there  you  '11  find  some  of 
my  last  year's  dresses.  I  've  outgrown  them.  Amuse  your- 
self with  choosing  one  for  to-night.     We  shall  have  callers." 

Laura  hurried  off.  Clara,  terrified  at  the  wrathfulness  of 
her  own  emotions,  walked  the  room  for  a  while,  then  di'opped 
upon  her  knees  in  prayer.  She  prayed  to  be  delivered  from 
her  own  wild  passions  and  from  the  toils  of  her  enemies. 

With  softened  heart,  she  rose  and  went  to  the  window. 

There,  on  the  opposite  sidewalk,  stood  Esha !  Crumpling 
up  some  paper,  Clara  thi-ew  it  out  so  as  to  arrest  her  attention, 
then  beckoned  to  her  to  come  up.  Stifling  a  cry  of  surprise, 
Esha  crossed  the  street,  and  entered  the  hotel.  The  next  min- 
ute she  and  Clara  had  embraced. 

"  But  how  did  you  happen  to  be  there,  Esha  ?  " 

"  Bress  de  chile,  I  'ze  been  stahndin'  dar  de  last  hour,  but 
what  tor  I  knowed  no  more  dan  de  stones.  'T  wam't  till  I  seed 
de  chile  hersef  it  'curred  ter  me  what  for  I  'd  been  stalmdin' 
dar." 

"  What  happened  after  I  left  home  ?  " 

"  Dar  war  all  sort  ob  a  fuss  dat  ebber  you  see,  darlin'.     Fust 


CLARA  MAKES  AN  IMPORTANT  PURCHASE.  261 

de  ole  woman  war  all  struck  ob  a  heap,  like.  Den  Massa  Rat- 
cliff,  he  come,  and  he  swar  like  de  Debbie  hisself.  He  cuss'd 
de  ole  woman  and  set  her  off  cryin',  and  den  he  swar  at  her  all 
de  more.  Dar  was  a  gen'ral  break-down,  darlin'.  Massa  Rat- 
cliff  he  'b  goin'  ter  gib  yer  fortygraf  ter  all  de  policemen,  an' 
pay  five  hundred  dollar  ter  dat  one  as  '11  find  yer.  He  sends 
us  niggers  all  off — me  an'  Tarquin  an'  de  rest  —  ter  hunt  yer 
up.  He  swar  he  '11  hab  yer,  if  it  takes  all  he  's  wuth.  He 
come  agin  ter-day  an'  trow  de  ole  woman  inter  de  highstrikes. 
She  say  he  '11  be  come  up  wid,  sure,  an'  you  '11  be  come  up  wid, 
an'  eberybody  else  as  does  n't  do  like  she  wants  'em  ter,  am 
bound  to  be  come  up  wid.     Yah,  yah,  yah  !     Who 's  afeard  ?  " 

"So  the  hounds  are  out  in  pursuit,  are  they  ?  " 

"  Yes,  darlin'.  Look  dar  at  dat  man  stahndin'  at  de  corner. 
He'm  one  ob  'em." 

"  He  's  not  dressed  like  a  policeman."     , 

"Bress  yer  heart,  dese  'tektivs  go  dressed  like  de  best 
gem'men  about.  Yer  'd  nebber  suspek  dey  was  doin'  de  work 
ob  hounds." 

"  Well,  Esha,  I  'm  afraid  to  have  you  stay  longer.  I  'm 
here  with  Miss  Tremaine.  She  may  be  back  any  minute.  I 
can't  trust  her,  and  wouldn't  for  the  world  have  her  see 
you  here." 

"  No  more  would  I,  darlin' !  Nebber  liked  dat  air  gal. 
She  'm  all  fur  self.  But  good  by,  darlin' !  It 's  sich  a  comfort 
ter  hab  seed  you  !     Good  by !  " 

Esha  slipped  into  the  corridor  and  out  of  the  hotel.  Clara 
put  on  her  bonnet,  threw  a  thick  veil  over  it,  and  hurried 
through  St.  Charles  Street  to  a  well-known  cutlery  store. 
"  Show  me  some  of  your  daggers,"  said  she ;  "  one  suitable 
as  a  present  to  a  young  soldier." 

The  shopkeeper  displayed  several  varieties.  She  selected 
one  with  a  sheath,  and  almost  took  away  the  breath  of  the 
man  of  iron  by  paying  for  it  in  gold  Dropping  her  veil,  she 
passed  into  the  street.  As  she  left  the  shop,  she  saw  a  man 
affecting  to  look  at  some  patent  pistols  in  the  window.  He 
was  well  dressed,  and  sported  a  small  cane. 

"  Hound  number  one  ! "  thought  Clara  to  herself,  and,  having 
walked  slowly  away  in  one  direction,  she  suddenly   turned, 


262  PECULIAR. 

retraced  her  steps,  then  took  a  narrow  cross-street  that  de- 
bouched into  one  of  the  principal  business  avenues.  The 
individual  had  followed  her,  swinging  his  cane,  and  looking  in 
at  the  shop-windows.  But  Clara  did  not  let  him  see  he  was 
an  object  of  suspicion.  She  slackened  her  pace,  and  pretended 
to  be  looking  for  an  article  of  muslin,  for  she  would  stop  and 
examine  the  fabrics  that  hung  at  the  doors. 

Suddenly  she  saw  Esha  approaching.  Moment  of  peril ! 
Should  the  old  black  woman  recognize  and  accost  her,  she  was 
lost.  On  came  the  old  slave,  her  eyes  wide  open  and  her 
thoughts  intent  on  detecting  detectives.  Suddenly,  to  her 
consternation,  she  saw  Clara  stop  before  a  "  magasin"  and  take 
up  some  muslin  on  the  shelf  outside  the  window ;  and  almost 
in  the  same  glance,  she  saw  the  gentleman  of  the  cane, 
watching  both  her  and  Clara  out  of  the  comers  of  his  eyes. 
A  sideway  glance,  quick  as  lightning  from  Clara,  and  deliv- 
ered without  moving  her  head,  was  enough  to  enlighten  Esha. 
She  passed  on  without  a  perceptible  pause,  and  soon  appeared 
to  stumble,  as  if  by  accident,  almost  into  the  arms  of  the 
detective.  He  caught  her  by  the  shoulder,  and  said,  "  Don't 
turn,  but  tell  me  if  you  noticed  that  woman  there,  —  there  by 
Delmar's,  with  a  green  veil  over  her  face  ?  " 

"  Yes,  massa,  I  seed  a  woman  in  a  green  veil." 

"  "Well,  are  you  sure  she  may  n't  be  the  one  ?  " 

"  Bress  yer,  massa,  I  owt  to  know  de  chile  I  'ze  seed  grow 
up  from  a  bebby.  Reckon  I  could  tell  her  widout  seein* 
her  face." 

"  Go  back  and  take  a  look  at  her.  There !  she  steps  into 
the  shop." 

Glad  of  the  opportunity  of  giving  Clara  a  word  of  caution, 
Esha  passed  into  Delmar's.  Beckoning  Clara  into  an  alcove, 
she  said :  "  De  veil,  darlin' !  De  veil !  Dat  ole  rat  would 
nebber  hab  suspek  noting  if 't  hahd  n't  been  fur  de  veil.  His 
part  ob  de  play  am  ter  watch  eb'ry  woman  in  a  veil." 

"  I  see  my  mistake,  Esha.  I  've  been  buying  a  dagger. 
Look  there!" 

"  De  Lord  save  us  ! "  said  Esha,  with  a  shudder,  half  of 
horror  and  half  of  s^Tupathy.  "  Don't  be  in  de  street  oftener 
dan  yer  kin  help,  darlin'  ?  Remember  de  fotygrafs.  Dar  !  I 
mus  sro." 


CLARA  MAKES  AN  IMPORTANT  PURCHASE.  263 

Esha  joined  the  detective.  "  Did  you  get  a  good  sight  of 
her  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Went  right  up  an'  spoke  ter  her,"  said  Esha.  "  She 's  jes 
as  much  dat  gal  as  she  's  Madame  Beauregard." 

The  detective,  his  vision  of  a  $500  douceur  melting  into 
thin  air,  pensively  walked  off  to  try  fortune  on  a  new  beat. 

Clai-a,  now  that  the  danger  was  over,  began  to  tremble. 
Hitherto  she  had  not  quailed.  Leaving  the  shop,  she  took  the 
nearest  way  to  the  hotel.  For  the  last  twenty-four  hours 
agitation  and  excitement  had  prevented  her  taking  food. 
Wretchedly  faint,  she  stopped  and  took  hold  of  an  iron  lamp- 
post for  support. 

An  officer  in  the  Confederate  uniform,  seeing  she  was  ill, 
said,  "  Mademoiselle,  you  need  help.  Allow  me  to  escort 
you  home." 

Dreading  lest  she  should  fall,  through  feebleness,  into  worse 
hands,  Clara  thanked  him  and  took  his  proffered  arm.  "To 
the  St.  Charles,  sir,  if  you  please." 

"  I  myself  stop  at  the  St.  Charles.  Allow  me  to  introduce 
myself:  Robert  Onslow,  Captain  in  Company  D,  Wigman 
Regiment.    May  I  ask  whom  I  have  the  pleasure  of  assisting  ?  " 

"  Miss  Brown.  I  'm  stopping  a  few  days  with  my  friend. 
Miss  Tremaine." 

"  Indeed !  I  was  to  call  on  her  this  evening.  We  may 
renew  our  acquaintance." 

"  Perhaps." 

Clara  suddenly  put  down  her  veil.  Approaching  slowly 
like  a  fate,  rolled  on  the  splendid  barouche  of  Mr.  Ratcliff. 
He  sat  with  ai'ms  folded  and  was  smoking  a  cigar.  Clara 
fancied  she  saw  arrogance,  hate,  disappointment,  rage,  all 
written  in  his  countenance.  Without  moving  his  aims,  he 
bowed  carelessly  to  Onslow. 

"  That 's  one  of  the  prime  managers  of  the  secession  move- 
ment." 

"  So  I  should  thmk,"  said  Clara ;  but  Onslow  detected 
nothing  equivocal  in  the  tone  of  the  remark.  Having  escorted 
her  to  the  door  of  Miss  Tremaine's  parlor,  he  bowed  his 
farewell,  and  Clara  went  in.     Lam-a  had  not  yet  returned. 


264  PECULIAR. 

CHAPTER    XXVII. 

DELIGHT   AND   DUTY. 

"  Acxjording  to  our  living  here,  we  shall  hereafter,  by  a  hidden  concatenation  of 
causes,  be  drawTi  to  a  condition  answerable  to  the  purity  or  impurity  of  our  souls  in 
this  life  :  that  silent  Nemesis  that  passes  through  the  whole  contexture  of  the  universe, 
ever  fatally  contriving  us  into  such  a  state  as  we  ourselves  have  fitted  ourselves  for  by 
our  accustomaj-j-  actions.  Of  so  great  consequence  is  it,  while  we  have  opportunity,  to 
aspire  to  the  best  things."  —  Henry  More.,  A.  D.  1659. 

IT  may  seem  strange  that  Onslow  and  Kemick,  differing 
so  widely,  should  renew  the  friendship  of  their  boyhood. 
We  have  seen  that  Onslow,  allowing  the  aesthetic  side  of  his 
nature  to  outgrow  the  moral,  had  departed  from  the  teachuigs 
of  his  father  on  the  subject  of  slavery.  Kenrick,  in  whom  the 
moral  and  devotional  faculty  asserted  its  supremacy  over  all 
inferior  solicitings,  also  repudiated  his  paternal  teachings  ;  but 
they  were  directly  contrary  to  those  of  his  friend,  and,  in  aban- 
doning them,  he  gave  up  the  prospect  of  a  large  inheritance. 

To  Onslow,  these  thick-lipped,  woolly -headed  negroes,  — 
what  were  they  fit  for  but  to  be  hewers  of  wood  and  drawers 
of  water  to  the  gentle  and  refined  ?  It  was  monstrous  to  sup- 
pose that  between  such  and  him  there  could  be  equality  of 
any  kind.  The  ethnological  ai'gument  was  conclusive.  Had 
not  Professor  Moleschott  said  that  the  brain  of  the  negro  con- 
tains less  phosphorus  than  that  of  the  white  man  ?  Proof 
sufficient  that  Cuffee  was  expressly  created  to  pull  off  my 
boots  and  hoe  in  my  cotton-fields,  while  I  make  it  a  penal 
offence  to  teach  him  to  read ! 

Onslow,  too,  had  been  fortunate  in  his  intercourse  with 
slaveholders.  Young,  handsome,  and  accomplished,  he  had 
felt  the  charm  of  their  affectionate  hospitality.  He  had  found 
taste,  culture,  and  piety  in  their  abodes  ;  all  the  graces  and  all 
the  amenities  of  life.  What  wonder  that  he  should  narcotize 
his  moral  sense  with  the  aroma  of  these  social  fascinations ! 
Even  at  the  North,  where  the  glamour  they  cast  ought  not  to 
distort  the  sight,  and  where  men  ouglit  healthfully  to  look  the 


delight:  and  duty.  265 

abstract  abomination  fall  in  the  face,  and  testify  to  its  deform- 
ity, —  hovv^  many  consciences  were  drugged,  how  many  hearts 
shut  to  justice  and  to  mercy  ! 

With  Ken  rick,  brought  up  on  a  plantation  where  slavery 
existed  in  its  mildest  form,  meditation  on  God's  law  as  written 
in  the  enlightened  human  conscience,  completely  reversed  the 
views  adopted  from  upholders  of  the  institution.  Thencefortli 
the  elegances  of  his  home  became  hateful.  He  felt  like  a 
robber  in  the  midst  of  them. 

The  spectacle  of  some  hideous,  awkward,  perhaps  obscene 
and  depraved  black  woman,  hoeing  in  the  corn-field,  instead 
of  awakening  in  his  mind,  as  in  Onslow's,  the  thought  that  she 
was  in  her  proper  place,  did  but  move  him  to  tears  of  bitter 
contrition  and  humiliation.  How  far  there  was  sin  or  account- 
ability on  her  part,  or  that  of  her  progenitors,  he  could  not 
say ;  but  that  there  was  deep,  immeasurable  sin  on  the  part 
of  those  who,  instead  of  helping  that  degraded  nature  to  rise, 
made  laws  to  crush  it  all  the  deeper  in  the  mire,  he  could  not 
fail  to  feel  in  anguish  of  spirit.  Through  all  that  there  was  in 
her  of  ugliness  and  depravity,  making  her  less  tolerable  than 
the  beast  to  his  aesthetic  sense,  he  could  still  detect  those  traits 
and  possibilities  that  allied  her  with  immortal  natures,  and  in 
her  he  saw  all  her  sex  outraged,  and  universal  womanhood 
nailed  to  the  cross  of  Christ,  and  mocked  by  unbelievers  ! 

The  evening  of  the  day  of  Clara's  arrival  at  the  St.  Charles, 
Onslow  and  Kenrick  met  by  agreement  in  the  drawing-room 
of  the  Tremaines.  Clara  had  told  Laura,  that,  in  going  out  to 
purchase  a  few  hair-pins,  she  had  been  taken  suddenly  faint, 
and  tliat  a  gentleman,  who  proved  to  be  Captain  Onslow,  had 
escorted  her  home. 

"  Could  anything  be  more  apt  for  my  little  plot ! "  said 
Laura.  "  But  consider  !  Here  it  is  eight  o'clock,  and  you  're 
not  dressed  !  Do  you  know  how  long  you  've  been  sleepmg  !' 
This  will  never  do ! " 

A  servant  knocked  at  the  door,  with  the  information  that 
two  gentlemen  were  in  the  drawing-room. 
.     "  Dear  me !     I  must  go  in  at  once,"  said  Laura.     "  Now 
tell  me  you  '11  be  quick  and  follow.  Darling." 

Clara  gave  the  required  pledge,  and  proceeded  to  arrange 

12 


266  PECULIAR. 

her  hair.  Laura  looked  on  for  a  minute  envying  her  those 
thick  brown  tresses,  and  then  darted  into  the  next  room  where 
the  \dsitors  were  waiting.  Greeting  them  with  her  usual  ani- 
mation of  manner,  she  asked  Onslow  for  the  news. 

"  The  news  is,"  said  Onslow,  "  my  friend  Charles  is  under- 
going conversion.  We  shall  have  him  an  out-and-out  Seces- 
sionist before  the  Fourth  of  July." 

"  On  what  do  you  base  your  calculations  ?  "  asked  Kenrick. 

"  On  the  fact  that  for  the  last  twelve  hours  I  have  n't  heard 
you  call  down  maledictions  on  the  Confederate  cause." 

"  Perhaps  I  conclude  that  the  better  part  of  valor  is  discre- 
tion." 

"  No,  Charles,  yours  is  not  the  Falstaffian  style  of  courage.** 

"  Well,  construe  my  mood  as  you  please.  IVIiss  Tremaine, 
your  piano  stands  open.    Does  it  mean  we  're  to  have  music  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Has  n't  the  Captain  told  you  of  his  meeting  a  young 
lady,  —  Miss  Perdita  Brown  ?  " 

"  I  '11  do  him  the  justice  to  say  he  did  tell  me  he  had  escorted 
such  a  one." 

"What  did  he  say  of  her?  " 

"  Nothing,  good  or  bad." 

"  But  that 's  very  suspicious." 

"  So  it  is." 

"  Pray  who  is  Miss  Perdita  Brown  ?  "  asked  Onslow. 

"  She  's  a  daughter  of —  of —  why,  of  Mr.  Brown,  of  course. 
He  lives  in  St.  Louis." 

"  Is  she  a  good  Secessionist  ?  " 

"  On  the  contrary,  she  's  a  desperate  little  Abolitionist." 

"  Look  at  Charles  !  "  said  Onslow.  "  He 's  enamored  already. 
I  'm  sorry  she  is  n't  secesh." 

"  Think  of  the  triumph  of  converting  her ! "  said  Laura. 

"  That  indeed !  Of  course,"  said  Onslow,  "  like  all  true  wo- 
men, she  '11  take  her  politics  from  the  man  she  loves." 

And  the  Captain  smoothed  his  moustache,  and  looked  hand- 
some as  Phcebus  Apollo. 

"  O  the  conceit ! "  exclaimed  Laura.  "  Look  at  him,  Mr. 
Kenrick  !  Is  n't  he  chai-ming  ?  Where  's  the  woman  who 
would  n't  turn  Mormon,  or  even  Yankee,  for  his  sake  ?  Surely 
one  of  us  weak  creatm-es  could  be  content  with  one  tenth  or 


DKLICHT   AND  DUTY.  267 

even  one  twentieth  of  the  affections  of  so  suinerb  an  Ali.  Come 
sir,  promise  me  I  shall  be  the  fifteenth  Mrs^  Onslow  when  you' 
emigrate  to  Utah." 

Onslow  was  astounded  at  this  fire  of  raillery.  Could  the 
lady  have  heard  of  any  disparaging  expression  he  had  dropped? 

"Spare  me,  Miss  Laura,"  he  said.  "Don't  deprive  the 
Confederacy  of  my  services  by  slaying  me  before  I  've  smelt 
powder." 

"  Where  's  Miss  Brown  all  this  while  ?  "  asked  Kenrick. 
Laura  went  to  the  door,  and  called  "  Perdita  !  " 
"  Li  five  minutes  ! "  was  the  reply. 

Clara  was  dressing.  When,  that  morning,  she  came  in  from 
her  walk,  slie  thought  intently  on  her  situation,  and  at  last 
determined  on  a  new  line  of  policy.  Instead  of  playing  the 
himible  companion  and  shy  recluse,  she  would  now  put  forth 
all  her  powers  to  dazzle  and  to  strike.  She  would,  if  possible, 
make  friends,  who  should  protest  against  any  arbitrary  claim' 
that  Ratcliff  might  set  up.  She  would  vindicate  her  own  right 
to  freedom  by  showing  she  was  not  born  to  be  a  slave.  AH 
who  had  known  her  should  feel  theii-  own  honor  wounded  in 
any  attempt  to  injure  hers. 

Having  once  fixed  before  herself  an  object,  she  grew  calm 
and  firm.  When  her  dinner  was  sent  up,  she  ate  it  with  a  good 
appetite.  Sleep,  too,  that  had  been  a  stranger  to  her  so  many 
hours,  now  came  to  repair  her  strength  and  revive  her  spirits. 

No  sooner  had  Laura  left  to  attend  to  her  visitors,  than 
Clara  plunged  into  the  drawers  containing  the  dresses  for  her 
choice.  With  the  rapidity  of  instinct  she  selected  the  most  be- 
commg;  then  swiftly  and  deftly,  with  the  hand  of  an  adept 
and  the  eye  of  an  artist,  she  arranged  her  toilet.  A  dexterous 
adaptation  of  pins  speedily  rectified  any  little  defect  in  the  fit. 
Where  were  the  collars  ?  Locked  up.  No  matter !  There 
was  a  frill  of  exquisite  lace  round  the  neck  of  the  dress;  and 
this  httle  narrow  band  of  maroon  velvet  would  serve  to  relieve 
the  bareness  of  the  throat.  What  could  she  clasp  it  with? 
Laura  had  not  left  the  key  of  her  jewel-box.  A  common  pin 
would  hardly  answer.  Suddenly  Clara  bethought  herself  of  the 
httle  coral  sleeve-button,  wrapped  up  in  the  strip  of  buntino-. 
Ihat  would  serve  admirably.     Yes.     Nothing  could  be  better. 


268  PECULIAR. 

It  was  her  only  article  of  jewelry ;  though  round  her  right 
wrist  she  wore  a  hair-bracelet  of  her  ovrn.  braiding,  made  from 
that  strand  given  her  by  Esha  ;  and  from  a  flower-vase  she  had 
taken  a  small  cape-jasmine,  white  as  alabaster,  and  fragrant  as 
a  garden  of  honeysuckles,  and  thrust  it  in  her  hair.  A  fan  ? 
Yes.  here  is  one. 

And  thus  accoutred  she  entered  the  room  where  the  three 
expectants  were  seated. 

On  seeing  her,  Laura's  first  emotion  was  one  of  admiration, 
as  at  sight  of  an  imposing  entree  at  the  opera.  She  was  sud- 
denly made  aware  of  the  fact  that  Clara  was  the  most  beautiful 
young  woman  of  her  acquaintance  ;  nay,  not  only  the  most 
beautiful,  but  the  most  stylish.  So  taken  by  surprise  was  she, 
so  lost  in  looking,  that  it  was  nearly  a  thii'd  of  a  minute  before 
she  introduced  the  young  gentlemen.  Onslow  claimed  acquaint- 
ance, presented  a  chair,  and  took  a  seat  at  Clai*a's  side.  Ken- 
rick  stood  mute  and  stai-ing,  as  if  a  paradisic  vision  had  dazed 
his  senses.  When  he  thi-ew  off  his  bewilderment,  he  quieted 
himself  with  the  thought,  "  She  can't  be  as  beautiful  as  she 
looks,  —  that 's  one  comfort.  A  shrew,  perhaps,  —  or,  what  is 
worse,  a  coquette  !  " 

"  When  were  you  last  in  St.  Louis,  IVIiss  Brown  ?  "  asked 
Onslow. 

"  All  questions  for  infonnation  must  be  addressed  to  ]\Iis3 
Tremaine,"  said  Clara.  "  I  shall  be  happy  to  talk  with  you  on 
thin^  I  know  nothing  about.  Shall  we  discuss  the  Dahlgren 
gun,  or  the  Ericsson  Monitor  ?  "    " 

"  So  !  She  sets  up  for  an  eccentric,"  thought  Onslow.  "  Per- 
haps politics  would  suit  you,"  he  added  aloud.  "  I  hear  you  're 
an  Abolitionist." 

"  Ask  Miss  Tremaine,"  said  Clara. 

"  0,  she  has  betrayed  you  already,"  replied  Onslow. 

"  Then  I  've  nothing  to  say.     I  'm  in  her  hands." 

"  Is  it  possible,"  said  Kenrick,  who  was  irrepressible  on  the 
one  theme  nearest  his  heart,  "  is  it  possible  INIiss  Brown  can't 
see  it,  —  can't  see  the  loveliness  of  that  divine  cosmos  which 
we  call  slavery  ?  Poor  deluded  Miss  Brown  !  I  know  not  what 
other  men  may  think,  but  as  for  me,  gi^e  me  slavery  or  give 
me  death  !     Do  you  object  to  woman-whipping,  !Miss  Brown  ?  " 


DELIGHT   AND  DUTY.  2G9 

«I  confess  I've  my  prejudices  against  it,"  replied  Clara. 
"But  these  charges  of  woman-whipping,  you  know,  are  Aboli- 
tion lies." 

^  "  Yes,  so  Northern  conservatives  say  ;  but  we  of  the  planta- 
tions know  that  nearly  one  half  the  whippings  are  of  women."  * 
"  Come  !  Sink  the  shop  !  "  cried  Laura.  "  Are  we  so  dull 
we  can't  find  anything  but  our  horrible  hete  noir  for  our 
amusement  ?  Let  us  have  scandal,  rather ;  nonsense,  rather ! 
Tell  us  a  story,  Mr.  Kenrick." 

"Well;  once  on  a  time  —  how  would  you  like  a  ghost- 
story  ?  " 

"  Above  all  things.  Charming !  Only  ghosts  have  grown 
so  common,  they  no  longer  thrill  us." 

"  Yes,"  said  Kenrick,  —  whose  trivial  thoughts  ever  seemed 
to  caU  up  his  serious, —  « yes ;  materialism  has  done  a  good 
work  in  its  day  and  generation.  It  has  taught  us  that  the 
business  of  this  world  must  go  on  just  as  if  there  were  no 
ghosts.  ^  The  supernatural  is  no  longer  an  incubus  and  an 
oppression.  Its  phenomena  no  longer  frighten  and  paralyze. 
Let  us,  then,  since  we  are  now  freed  from  their  terrors,  welcome 
the  great  facts  themselves  as  illumining  and  confirming  all 
that  there  is  in  the  past  to  comfort  us  with  the  assurance  of 
continuous  life  issuing  from  seeming  death." 

"  Dear  Mr.  Kem-ick,  is  this  a  time  for  a  lecture  ?  "  expostu- 
lated Laura.     "  Are  n't  you  bored,  Perdita  ?  " 

*  Among  the  foul  records  the  Rebellion  has  unearthed  is  one,  found  at 
Alexandria,  La.,  being  a  stray  leaf  from  the  diary  of  an  overseer  in  that 
vicinity  m  the  year  1847.  It  chronicles  the  whippings  of  slaves  from  April 
20  to  May  21  Of  thirty-nine  whippings  during  that  period,  nineteen  roere 
toiumJnt'-         ^'''^  ^  ^^^  extracts  from  this  precious  and   authentic 

coito'^n^'"  2?"  J^SZf  ^A^r^  ^°'  T^^H  ^°**^"  *°°  ^id«-  ^at,  for  thinning 
cot  on.  — 21.  Adahne  and  Clem,  for  being  behind.-  24.  Esther,  for  leavinl 

quarter'  '"afDani^fV^  ''"^.'T''-  ^^Sin^' ^^^  being  slow  getting  out  of 
quarters  —28.  Daniel,  for  not  having  cobs  taken  out  of  horse-trouo-h  — 
Clem  fof  K  J'^'  «r""«?^Sarah,  Jimfand  Jane,  for  not  thinning  corn  ?ight. 
Clem,  for  being   oo  long  thinning  one  row  of  corn.     Esther,  for  not  being  out 

l1  'FXTa^'fi:^'^^'"--''-  ^'^^'"^'  ^^^  '^^'"S  '^^'  ^-'  oit  with  0^.  - 
lo.  L.ihei    for  leaving  grass  in  cotton.  —  17.  Peggv,  for  not  hoeinc^  as  much 

mZ:1"  ^^L'^'-^Vi  ^""l'  r^l^--18.  Polly,  I'r 'not  hoeing  Ta'^ter. -20 
PniK  fn^  m'  ^'^r  ^\^«h  for  jawing  about  row,  while  I  was  gone. -21. 
Polly,  for  not  handling  her  hoe  faster."  5     <=•       -^i- 

A  United  States  officer  from  Cambridge,  Mass.,  sent  home  this  stray  leaf, 
and  It  was  originally  published  in  the  Cambridge  Chronicle. 


270  PECULIAR. 

"  On  the  contrar}',  I  'm  interested." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  spiritualism,  Miss  Brown  ?  " 

"I've  witnessed  none  of  the  phenomena,  but  I  don't  see 
why  the  testimony  of  these  times,  in  regard  to  them,  should  n't 
be  taken  as  readily  as  that  of  centuries  back." 

"  My  father  is  a  believer,"  said  Onslow ;  "  and  I  have  cer- 
tainly seen  some  unaccountable  things,  —  tables  lifted  into  the 
air,  —  instruments  of  music  floated  about,  and  played  on 
without  visible  touch,  —  human  hands,  pali)able  and  warm, 
coming  out  from  impalpable  air:  —  all  very  queer  and  very 
inexplicable  !  But  what  do  they  prove  ?  Cut  bono  ?  What 
of  it  all?" 

" '  Nothing  in  it ! '  as  Sii'  Charles  Coldstream  says  of  the 
Vatican,"  interposed  Laura. 

''  You  demand  the  use  of  it  all,  —  the  cui  bo7io,  —  do 
you  ?  "  retorted  Kem-ick.  "  Did  it  ever  occur  to  you  to  make 
your  own  existence  the  subject  of  that  terrible  inquiry,  cui 
bono  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Onslow,  laughing ;  "  my  cui  bono  is  to 
fight  for  the  independence  of  the  new  Confederacy." 

"  And  for  the  propagation  of  slavery,  eh  ? "  returned  Ken- 
rick.  ''  I  don't  see  the  cui  bo7io.  On  the  contrary',  to  my 
fallible  vision,  the  world  would  be  better  off  without  than  with 
you.  But  let  us  take  a  more  extreme  case.  These  youths 
—  Tom,  Dick,  and  Harry  —  who  give  their  days  and  nights, 
not  to  the  works  of  Addison,  but  to  gambling,  julep-drinking, 
and  cigar-smoking,  —  who  hate  and  shun  all  useful  work,  — 
and  are  no  comfort  to  anybody,  —  only  a  shame  and  afiliction 
to  somebody,  —  can  you  explain  to  me  the  cui  bono  of  their 
corrupt  and  unprofitable  lives?" 

"  But  how  undignified  in  a  spirit  to  push  tables  about  and 
play  on  accordions  !  " 

"Well,  what  authority  have  you  for  the  supposition  that 
there  are  no  undignified  spirits?  We  know  there  are  weak 
and  wicked  spirits  in  the  flesh ;  why  not  out  of  the  flesh  ?  A 
spirit,  or  an  intelligence  claiming  to  be  one,  writes  an  ungram- 
matical  sentence  or  a  pompous  conmaonplace,  and  signs  Bacon 
to  it ;  and  you  forthwith  exclaim,  '  Pooh !  this  can't  come  from 
a  spirit.'    How  do  you  know  that  ?    May  n't  lies  be  told  in  other 


DELIGHT  AND  DUTY.  271 

worlds  than  this?  Will  the  ignoramus  at  once  be  made  a 
scholar,  —  the  dullard  a  philosopher,  —  the  blackguard  a 
gentleman,  —  the  sinner  a  saint,  —  the  liar  truthful,  —  by  the 
simple  process  of  elimination  from  this  husk  of  flesh  ?  Make 
me  at  once  altogether  other  than  what  I  am,  and  you  anni- 
hilate me,  and  there  is  no  immortality  of  the  soul." 

"  But  what  has  the  ghost  contributed  to  our  knowledge 
during  these  fourteen  years,  since  he  appeared  at  Rochester  ? 
Of  all  he  has  brought  us,  we  may  say,  with  Shakespeare, 
*  There  needs  no  ghost  come  from  the  gi'ave  to  tell  us  that.' " 

"  I  '11  tell  you  what  the  ghost  has  contributed,  not  at  Roches- 
ter merely,  but  everywhere,  thi'ough  the  ages.  He  has  con- 
tributed himself.  You  say,  cui  bono  ?  And  I  might  say  of  ten 
thousand  mysteries  about  us,  cui  bono  ?  The  lightning  strikes 
the  church-steeple,  —  cui  bo7io?  An  idiot  is  born  into  the 
world,  —  cui  bono  ?  It  is  absurd  to  demand  as  a  condition  of 
rational  faith,  that  we  should  prove  a  cui  bono.  A  good  or  a 
use  may  exist,  and  we  be  unable  to  see  it.  And  yet  grave 
men  are  continually  thrusting  into  the  faces  of  the  investiga- 
tors of  these  phenomena  this  preposterous  cui  bono  ? " 

"  Enough,  my  dear  Mr.  Kenrick ! "  exclaimed  Laura. 

But  he  was  not  to  be  stopped.  He  rose  and  paced  the 
room,  and  continued :  "  The  cui  bono  of  phenomena  must  of 
course  be  found  in  the  mind  that  regards  them.  '  I  can't  find 
you  both  arguments  and  brains,'  said  Dr.  Johnson  to  a  noodle 
who  thought  Milton  trashy.  One  man  sees  an  apple  fall,  and 
straightway  thinks  of  the  price  of  cider.  Newton  sees  it,  and 
it  suggests  gravitation.  One  man  sees  a  table  rise  in  the  air, 
and  cries :  '  It  can't  be  a  spirit ;  't  is  too  undignified  for  a 
spirit ! '  Mountford  sees  it,  and  the  immortality  of  the  soul  is 
thenceforth  to  him  a  fact  as  positive  as  any  fact  of  science." 

"  Your  story,  dear  Mr.  Kenrick,  your  story  !  "  urged  Laura. 

"  My  story  is  ended.     The  ghost  has  come  and  vanished." 

"  Is  that  all  ?  "  whined  Laura.  "  Are  n't  we,  then,  to  have  a 
Story?" 

"  In  mercy  give  us  some  music.  Miss  Brown,"  said  Onslow. 

"  Play  Yankee  Doodle,  with  variations,"  interposed  Kenrick. 

"  Not  unless  you  'd  have  the  windows  smashed  in,"  pleaded 
Onslow ;  and,  giving  his  arm,  he  waited  on  Clara  to  the  piano. 


272  PECULIAR. 

"  She  dashed  into  a  medley  of  briUiant  airs  frora  operas, 
uniting  them  by  extemporized  links  of  melody  to  break  the 
abruptness  of  the  transitions.  The  yomig  men  were  both 
connoisseurs;  and  they  interchanged  looks  of  grati£ed  aston- 
ishment. 

"  And  now  for  a  song ! "  exclaimed  Laura. 

Clara  paused  a  moment,  and  sat  looking  with  clasped  hands 
at  the  keys.  Then,  after  a  delicate  prelude,  she  gave  that 
song  of  Pestal,  abeady  quoted.*  She  gave  it  Avith  her  whole 
soul,  as  if  a  personal  wrong  were  adding  intensity  to  the 
defiance  of  her  tones. 

Kcni-ick,  wrought  to  a  state  of  sympathy  wliich  he  could  not 
disguise,  had  taken  a  seat  where  he  could  watch  her  features 
while  she  sang.  When  she  had  finished,  she  covered  her  face 
A\dth  her  hands,  then,  finding  her  emotion  uncontrollable,  rose 
and  passed  out  of  the  room. 

"  Wliat  do  you  think  of  that,  Chai'les  ?  "  asked  Onslow. 

"  It  was  terrible,"  said  Kenrick.  "  I  wanted  to  kill  a  slave- 
holder while  she  sang." 

"  But  she  has  the  powei-s  of  a  jyrima  doima, "  said  Onslow, 
turning  to  Laura. 

"  Yes,  one  would  think  she  had  practised  for  the  stage." 

Clara  now  returned  with  a  countenance  placid  and  smiling. 

"  How  long  do  you  stay  in  New  Orleans,  Miss  Brown  ? " 
inquired  Onslow. 

"  How  long,  Laura  ?  "  asked  Clara. 

"A  week  or  two." 

"  We  shall  have  another  opportunity,  I  hope,  of  hearing  you 
mg." 

"I  hope  so." 

"I  have  an  appointment  now  at  the  ai-mory.  Charles,  are 
you  ready  to  walk?" 

"  No,  thank  you.     I  prefer  to  remain." 

Onslow  left,  and,  immediately  afterwards,  Laura's  mothej 
being  seized  with  a  timely  hemorrhage,  Lam-a  was  called  off 
to  attend  to  her.  Kenrick  was  alone  with  Clara.  Charming 
opportunity!  He  drew  from  her  still  another  and  another 
song.  He  conversed  with  her  on  her  studies,  —  on  the  books 
*  See  Chapter  XII.  page  112. 


DELIGHT  AND  DUTY.  273 

slie  had  read,  —  the  pictures  she  had  seen.  He  was  roused  by 
her  intelligence  and  wit.  He  spoke  of  slavery.  Deep  as  was 
his  own  detestation  of  it,  she  helped  hira  to  make  it  deeper. 
What  delightful  harmony  of  \dews !  Kenrick  felt  that  his 
time  had  come.  The  hours  slipped  by  like  minutes,  yet  there 
be  sat  chained  by  a  fascination  so  new,  so  strange,  so  delightful, 
he  marvelled  that  life  had  in  it  so  much  of  untasted  joy. 

Kenrick  was  not  accustomed  to  be  critical  in  details.  He 
looked  at  general  effects.  But  the  most  ti-ifling  point  in 
Clara's  accoutrements  was  now  a  thing  to  be  marked  and 
remembered.  The  little  sleeve-button  dropped  from  the  band 
round  her  throat.  ^Kenrick  picked  it  up,  —  examined  it, — 
saw,  in  chai-actei-s  so  fine  as  to  be  hardly  legible,  the  letters 
C.  A.  B.  upon  it.  ("  B.  stands  for  Brown,"  thought  he.)  And 
then,  as  Clara  put  out  her  hand  to  receive  it,  he  noticed  the 
bracelet  she  wore.  "Wliat  beautiful  haii*!"  he  said.  He 
looked  up  at  Clara's  to  trace  a  resemblance.  But  his  glance 
stopped  midway  at  her  eyes.  "  Blue  and  gray ! "  he  mur- 
mui-ed. 

"  Yes,  can  you  read  them  ?  "  asked  Clara. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"  Only  a  dream  I  had.  There  's  a  letter  on  them  somebody 
is  to  open  and  read." 

"  O,  that  I  were  a  Daniel  to  interpret ! "  said  Kenrick. 

At  last  ]VIiss  Tremaine  returned.  Her  mother  had  been 
dangerously  ill.  It  was  an  hour  after  midnight.  Sincerely 
astounded  at  finding  it  so  late,  Kenrick  took  his  leave.  Henrt 
and  brain  were  full.  "  Thou  art  the  wine  whose  di-unken- 
ness  is  all  I  can  desire,  0  love ! " 

And  how  was  it  with  Clara  ?  Alas,  the  contrariety  of  the 
affections!  Clara  simply  thought  Kenrick  a  very  agreeable 
young  man:  handsome,  but  not  so  handsome  as  Onslow; 
clever,  but  not  so  clever  as  Vance ! 


12* 


274  PECULUR. 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

A  LETTER   OF   BUSINESS. 

"  This  war's  duration  can  be  more  8virel7  calculated  from  the  moral  progress  of  the 
North  than  from  the  result  of  campaigns  in  the  field.  Were  the  whole  North  to-day  as 
one  man  on  the  moral  issues  underlying  the  struggle,  the  RebeUion  were  this  day  crushed. 
Qod  bids  us,  I  think,  be  just  and  let  the  oppressed  go  free.  Let  us  do  his  bidding, 
and  the  plagues  cease." — Letter  from  a  native  of  Richmond,  Va. 

THE  following  letter  belongs  chronologicaUj  to  this  stage 
in  our  history  :  — 

From  F.  Macon  Semmes,  New   York,  to   T.  J,  Semmes,  New 
Orleans. 

"  Dear  Brother  :  I  have  called,  as  you  requested,  on 
]\Ir.  Charlton  in  regard  to  his  real  estate  in  New  Orleans. 
Let  me  give  you  some  account  of  this  man.  He  is  taxed  for 
upwards  of  a  million.  He  inherited  a  good  part  of  this  sum 
from  his  -v^^fe,  and  she  inherited  it  from  a  nephew,  the  late  ]VIr. 
Berwick,  who  inherited  it  from  his  infant  daughter,  and  this 
last  from  her  mother.  Mother,  child,  and  father  —  the  whole 
Berwick  family  —  were  killed  by  a  steamboat  explosion  on  the 
Mississippi  some  fifteen  or  sixteen  years  ago. 

"  In  the  lawsuit  which  grew  out  of  the  conflicting  claims  of 
the  relatives  of  the  mother  on  the  one  side,  and  of  the  father 
on  the  other,  it  was  made  to  appear  that  the  mother  must  have 
been  killed  instantaneously,  either  by  the  inhalation  of  steam 
from'  the  explosion,  or  by  a  blow  on  the  head  from  a  splinter ; 
either  cause  being  sufficient  to  produce  immediate  death.  It 
was  then  proved  that  the  child,  having  been  seen  with  her 
nurse  alive  and  struggling  in  the  water,  must  have  lived  after 
the  mother.  —  thus  inheriting  the  mother's  property.  But  it 
was  further  proved  that  the  child  was  drowned,  and  that  the 
father  survived  the  child  a  few  hours  ;  and  thus  the  father's 
heir  became  entitled  to  an  estate  amounting  to  upwards  of  a 
million  of  dollars,  all  of  which  was  thus  diNerted  from  the 
Aylesford  family  (to  whom  the  property  ought  to  have  gone), 
and  bestowed  on  a  man  alien  in  blood  and  in  every  other 
respect  to  all  the  parties  fairly  interested. 


A  LETTER  OF  BUSINESS.  275 

"  This  fortunate  man  was  Charlton.  The  scandal  goes,  that 
even  the  wife  from  whom  he  derived  the  estate  (and  who  died 
before  he  got  it)  had  received  from  liim  such  treatment  as  to 
alienate  her  wholly.  The  nearest  relative  of  Mrs.  Berwick, 
nee  Aylesford,  is  a  Mrs.  Pompilard,  now  living  with  an  aged 
husband  and  with  dependent  step-children  and  grandchildren, 
in  a  state  of  great  impoverishment.  To  tliis  aunt  the  large 
property  derived  from  her  brother,  Mr.  Aylesford,  ought  to 
ha\'e  gone.  But  the  law  gave  it  to  a  stranger,  this  Charlton. 
I  mention  these  facts,  because  you  ask  me  to  inform  you  what 
manner  of  man  he  is. 

"  Let  one  little  anecdote  illustrate.  Mr.  Albert  Pompilard, 
now  some  eighty  years  old,  has  been  in  his  day  a  great  oper- 
ator in  Wall  Street  He  has  made  half  a  dozen  large  fortunes 
and  lost  them.  Five  years  ago,  by  a  series  of  bold  and  fortu- 
nate speculations,  he  placed  himself  once  more  on  the  top 
round  of  the  financial  ladder.  He  paid  off  all  his  debts  with 
interest,  pensioned  off  a  widowed  daughter,  lifted  up  from  the 
gutter  several  old,  broken-down  friends,  and  advanced  a  hand- 
some sum  to  his  literaiy  son-in-law,  Mr.  Cecil  Purling,  who 
had  found,  as  he  thought,  a  short  cut  to  fortune.  Pompilard 
also  bought  a  stylish  place  on  the  Hudson ;  and  people  sup- 
posed he  would  be  content  to  keep  aloof  from  the  stormy  fluc- 
tuations of  Wall  Street. 

"  But  one  day  he  read  in  the  financial  column  of  the  news- 
paper certain  facts  that  roused  the  old  propensity.  His  near 
neighbor  was  a  rich  retired  tailor,  a  Mr.  Maloney,.  an  Irish- 
man, who  used  to  come  over  to  play  billiards  with  the  venera- 
ble stock-jobber.  Pompilard  had  made  a  visit  to  Wall  Street 
the  day  before.  He  had  been  fired  with  a  grand  scheme  of 
buying  up  the  whole  of  a  certain  stock  (in  which  sellers  at 
sixty  days  at  a  low  figure  were  abundant)  and  then  holding 
on  for  a  grand  rise.  He  did  not  find  it  difficult  to  kindle  the 
financial  enthusiasm  of  poor  Snip. 

"  Brief,  the  two  simpletons  went  into  the  speculation,  and 
lost  every  cent  they  were  worth  in  the  world.  Simultaneously 
with  their  break-down,  Purling,  the  son-in-law,  managed  to  lose 
all  that  had  been  confided  to  his  hands.  The  widowed  daugh- 
ter, Mrs.  Ireton,  gave  up  all  the  little  estate  her  father  had 
settled  on  her.  Poor  Maloney  had  to  go  back  to  his  goose  ; 
and  Pompilard,  now  almost  an  octogenarian,  has  been  obliged, 
he  and  his  family,  to  take  lodgings  in  the  cottage  of  his  lato 
gardener. 

"  The  other  day  Mr.  Hicks,  a  friend  of  the  family,  leaming 


276  PECULIAK. 

that  they  were  actuully  pinched  in  their  resources,  ventured  to 
call  upon  Charlton  for  a  contribution  for  their  relief.  After 
an  evident  inward  struggle,  Charlton  manfully  pulled  out  his 
pocket-book,  and  tendered  —  what,  tliink  you?  —  why,  a  ten- 
dollar  bill !  Hicks  affected  to  regard  the  tender  as  an  insult, 
and  slapped  the  donor's  face.  Charlton  at  first  threatened  a 
prosecution,  but  concluded  it  was  too  expensive  a  luxury. 
Thus  you  see  he  is  a  miser.  It  was  with  no  little  satisfaction, 
therefore,  that  I  called  to  communicate  the  state  of  his  affairs 
in  New  Orleans. 

"  He  lives  on  one  of  the  avenues  in  a  neat  freestone  house, 
such  as  could  be  hired  for  twenty-five  hundred  a  year.  There 
is  a  stable  attached,  and  he  keeps  a  carriage.  Soon  after  he 
burst  upon  the  fashionable  world  as  a  millionnaire,  there  was  a 
general  competition  among  fashionable  families  to  secure  him 
for  one  of  the  daughters.  But  Charlton,  with  all  liis  wealth, 
did  not  want  a  wife  who  was  merely  styKsh,  clever,  and  beau- 
tiful ;  she  must  be  rich  into  the  bargain.  He  at  last  encoun- 
tered such  a  one  (as  he  imagmed)  in  Mi§s  JDykvelt,  a  member 
of  one  of  the  old  Dutch  families.  He  proposed,  was  accepted, 
married,  — ^  and  three  w^eeks  afterwards,  to  his  consternation 
and  horror,  he  received  an  application  from  old  D.,  the  father- 
in-law,  for  a  loan  of  a  hundred  thousand  dollars. 

''  Charlton,  of  course,  indignantly  refused  it.  He  found  that 
he  had  been,  to  use  his  own  words,  '  taken  in  and  done  for.' 
Old  Uykvelt,  while  he  kept  up  the  style  of  a  prince,  was  on 
the  verge  of  bankruptcy.  The  persons  to  whom  Charlton  ap- 
plied for  information,  knowing  the  object  of  the  inquiry  and 
the  meanness  of  the  inquirer,  purposely  cajoled  him  with  stories 
of  Dykvelt's  wealth.  Charlton  fell  into  the  trap.  Charlotte 
Dykvelt,  w^ho  was  in  love  at  the  time  Ts-ith  young  Ireton  (a 
Lieutenant  in  the  army  and  a  grandson  of  old  Pompilard), 
yielded  to  the  entreaties  of  her  parents  and  mamed  the  man 
she  detested.  She  was  well  versed  in  the  history  of  his  first 
"wife,  and  resolved  that  her  own  heart,  wrung  by  obedience  to 
parental  authority,  should  be  iron  and  adamant  to  any  attempt 
Charlton  might  make  to  wound  it. 

"  He  soon  found  himself  overmatched.  The  bully  and  tyrant 
was  helpless  before  the  impassive  frigidity  and  inexorable  deter- 
mination of  that  young  and  beautiful  woman.  He  had  a  large 
iron  safe  in  his  house,  in  which  he  kept  his  securities  and  cou- 
pons, and  often  large  sums  of  money.  One  day  he  discovered 
he  had  been  robbed  of  thirty  thousand  dollars.  He  charged  the 
theft  upon  his  wife.     She  neither  denied  nor  confessed  it,  but 


A   LETTER   OF   BUSINESS.  277 

treated  him  with  a  glacial  scorn  before  which  he  finally  cowered 
and  was  dumb.  Undoubtedly  she  had  taken  the  money.  She 
forced  him  against  his  inclination  to  move  into  a  decent  house, 
and  keep  a  carriage ;  and  at  last,  by  a  threat  of  leaving  him, 
she  made  him  settle  on  her  a  liberal  allowance. 

''  A  loveless  home  for  him,  as  you  may  suppose  !  One  daugh- 
ter, Lucy  Charlton,  is  the  offspring  of  this  ill-assorted  marriage  ; 
a  beautiful  girl,  I  am  told,  but  who  shrinks  from  her  father's 
presence  as  from  sometliing  odious.  Probably  the  mother's 
impressions  during  pregnancy  gave  direction  to  the  antipathies 
of  the  child  ;  so  that  before  it  came  into  the  world  it  was  father- 
less. 

"  Well,  I  called  on  Charlton  last  Thursday.  As  I  passed  the 
little  sitting-room  of  the  basement,  I  saw  a  young  and  lovely 
girl  putting  her  mouth  filled  with  seed  up  to  the  bars  of  a  cage, 
and  a  canary-bird  picking  the  food  from  her  lips.  A  cat,  who 
seemed  to  be  on  excellent  terms  with  the  bird,  was  perched 
on  the  girl's  shoulder,  and  superintending  the  operation.  So, 
thought  I,  she  exercises  her  affections  in  the  society  of  these 
dumb  pets  rather  than  in  that  of  her  father. 

"  I  found  Charlton  sitting  lonely  in  a  sort  of  library  scantily 
furnished  with  books.  A  w^ell-formed  man,  but  with  a  face 
haggard  and  anxious  as  if  his  life-blood  were  ebbing  irrecover- 
ably with  every  pemiy  that  went  from  his  pockets.  On  my 
mentioning  your  name,  his  eyes  brightened ;  for  he  inferred  I 
had  come  with  your  semiannual  remittances.  He  was  at  once 
anxious  to  know  if  rents  in  New  Orleans  had  been  materially 
affected  by  the  w^ar,  I  told  him  his  five  houses  near  Lafayette 
Square,  excepting  that  occupied  on  a  long  lease  by  Mr.  Car- 
berry  Ratcliff,  would  not  bring  in  half  the  amount  they  did  last 
year.  He  groaned  audibly.  I  then  told  him  that  your  semi- 
annual collections  for  him  amounted  to  six  thousand  dollars,  but 
that  you  were  under  the  painful  necessity  of  assuring  him  that 
the  money  would  have  to  be  paid  all  over  to  the  Confederate 
government. 

"  Charlton,  completely  struck  aghast,  fell  back  in  his  chair, 
his  face  pale,  and  his  lips  quivering.     I  thought  he  had  fainted. 

" '  Your  brother  would  n't  rob  me,  Mr.  Semmes  ? '  he  gasped 
forth. 

"  '  Certainly  not,'  I  replied  ;  '  but  his  obedience  is  due  to  the 
authorities  that  are  uppermost.  The  Confederate  flag  waves 
over  New  Orleans,  and  will  probably  continue  to  wave.  All 
your  real  estate  has  been  or  will  be  confiscated.' 

"  ••  But  it  is  worth  two  hundred  thousand  dollars ! '  he  ex- 
claimed, in  a  tone  that  was  almost  a  shriek. 


278  PECULIAR. 

" '  So  much  the  better  for  the  Confederate  treasury ! '  I  replied. 

'•  I  then  broached  what  you  told  me  to  in  regard  to  his  making 
a  bona  fide  sale  of  the  property  to  you.  I  offered  him  twenty 
thousand  dollars  in  cash,  if  he  w^ould  surrender  all  claim. 

"  '  Never !  never  ! '  he  exclaimed.  '  I  '11  run  my  risk  of  the 
city's  cominp:  back  into  our  possession.  I  see  through  your 
brother's  trick.' 

" '  Please  recall  that  word,  sir/  I  said,  touching  my  wrist- 
bands. 

"  '  Well,  your  brother's  plan^  sir.     Will  that  suit  you  ?  ' 

"  '  That  will  do,'  I  replied.  *  My  brother  will  pay  your  ten 
thousand  dollai-s  over  to  the  Confederacy.  But  I  am  author- 
ized to  pay  you  a  tenth  part  of  that  sum  for  your  receipt  in  full 
of  all  moneys  due  to  you  for  rents  up  to  this  time.' 

'• '  Ha  !  you  Secessionists  are  not  quite  so  positive,  after  all,  as 
to  your  fortune  ! '  he  exclaimed.  '  You  're  a  little  weak-kneed 
as  to  your  ability  to  hold  the  place,  —  eh  ?  ' 

"  '  The  city  will  be  burnt,'  I  replied,  '  before  the  inhabitants 
will  consent  to  have  the  old  flag  restored.  You  'd  better  make 
the  most,  IMi-.  Charlton,  of  yoiu'  opportunity  to  compound  for 
a  fractional  part  of  the  value  of  your  Southern  property.' 

"  It  was  all  in  vain.  I  could  n't  make  him  see  it.  He  hates 
the  war  and  the  Lincoln  administration ;  but  he  won't  sell 
or  compound  on  the  terms  you  propose.  And,  to  be  frank,  I 
would  n't  if  I  were  he.  It  would  be  a  capital  thing  for  us  if  he 
could  be  made  to  do  it.  But  as  he  is  in  no  immediate  need  of 
money,  we  cannot  rely  on  the  stimulus  of  absolute  want  to  in- 
fluence him  as  we  wish.  I  took  my  leave,  quite  disgusted  with 
his  obstinacy. 

"  The  fall  of  Sumter  seems  to  have  fired  the  Northern  heart 
in  earnest.  I  fear  we  are  going'  to  have  serious  work  with 
these  Yankees.  Secretary  Walker's  cheerful  promise  of  raising 
the  Confederate  flag  over  Faneuil  Hall  will  not  be  realized  for 
some  time.  Nevertheless,  we  ai'e  bound  to  prevail  —  I  hope. 
Of  course  every  Southern  man  will  die  in  the  last  ditch  rather 
than  yield  one  foot  of  Southern  soil  to  Yankee  domination. 
We  must  have  Maryland  and  the  Chesapeake,  Fortress  Mon- 
roe, and  all  the  Gulf  forts.  Western  Virginia,  IMissouri,  Ken- 
tucky, Delawai-e,  —  every  square  inch  of  them.  Not  a  rood 
must  we  pai't  with.  We  can  whip,  if  we  'U  only  think  so. 
We  're  the  master  race,  and  can  do  it.  Can  hold  on  to  our 
nifjgers  into  the  bargain.  At  least,  we  '11  talk  as  if  we 
believed  it.  Perhaps  the  prediction  will  work  its  fulfllment. 
Who   knows  ? 

"  Fraternally  yours,  F.  M.  S." 


THE  WOM.Vl^  WHO  DELIBERATES  IS  LOST.  279 

CHAPTER    XXIX. 

THE  WOMAN  WHO  DELIBERATES  IS  LOST. 

"  0  North-wind !  blow  strong  with  God's  breath  in  twenty  million  men."  —  Rev. 
fohn  Weiss. 

"  Loud  wind,  strong  wind,  sweeping  o'er  the  mountains. 
Fresh  wind,  free  wind,  blowing  from  the  sea, 
Pour  forth  thy  vials  like  streams  from  airy  fountains, 
Draughts  of  life  to  me."  —  Miss  Muloch. 

ON  coming  down  to  the  breakfast-table  one  morning, 
Kenrick  was  delighted  to  encounter  Vance,  and  asked, 
"  What  success  ? " 

"  I  found  in  Natchez,"  was  the  reply,  "  an  old  colored  man 
who  knew  Davy  and  his  wife.  They  removed  to  New  York, 
it  seems,  some  thi-ee  years  ago.  I  must  push  my  inquiries 
further.  The  clew  must  not  be  di-opped.  The  old  man,  my 
informant,  was  formerly  a  slave.  He  came  into  my  room  at 
the  hotel,  and  showed  me  the  scai's  on  his  back.  Ah !  I,  too, 
could  have  showed  scars,  if  I  had  deemed  it  prudent." 

"  Cousin  William,"  said  Kenrick,  "  I  wouldn't  take  the  tes- 
timony of  our  own  humane  overseer  as  to  slavery.  I  have 
studied  the  usages  on  other  plantations.  Let  me  show  you  a 
photograph  which  I  look  at  when  my  antislavery  rage  wants 
kindling,  which  is  not  often." 

He  produced  the  photograph  of  a  young  female,  apparently 
a  quarteroon,  sitting  with  back  exposed  naked  to  the  hips,  — 
her  face  so  turned  as  to  show  an  intelligent  and  rather  handsome 
profile.  The  flesh  was  all  welted,  seamed,  fm-rowed,  and  scarred, 
as  if  both  by  fire  and  the  scourge. 

"  There  ! "  resumed  Kenrick,  "  that  I  saw  taken  myself,  and 
know  it  to  be  genuine.  It  is  one  out  of  many  I  have  collected. 
The  photograph  cannot  lie.  It  will  be  temble  as  the  recording 
angel  in  reflecting  slaveiy  as  this  civil  war  will  unearth  it. 
What  will  the  Carlyles  and  the  Gladstones  say  to  this  ?  Will 
it  make  them  falt<3r,  think  you,  in  theii*  Sadducean  hoot  against 


280  PECULIAR. 

a  noble  people  who  are  manfully  fighting  the  great  battle  of 
humanity  against  such  infemalism  as  this  ? " 

"  They  would  probably  fall  back  on  the  doubter's  privilege." 
"  Yes,  that 's  the  most  decent  way  of  escape.  But  I  would 
pin  them  with  the  sharp  fact  That  woman  (her  name  was 
Margaret)  belonged  to  the  Widow  Gillespie,*  on  the  Black 
River.  Margaret  had  a  nui-sing  child,  and,  out  of  mater- 
nal tenderness,  had  disobeyed  IMi-s.  Gillespie's  orders  to  wean 
it.  For  this  she  was  subjected  to  the  punishment  of  the 
hand-saw.  She  was  laid  on  her  face,  her  clothes  stripped  up  to 
around  her  neck,  her  hands  and  feet  held  down,  and  Mrs. 
Gillespie,  sitting  by,  then  '  paddled,'  or  stippled  the  exposed 
body  with  the  hand-saw.  She  then  had  Margaret  turned  over, 
and,  with  heated  tongs,  attempted  to  grasp  her  nipples.  The 
wi'ithings  of  the  victim  foiled  her  purpose ;  but  between  the 
breasts  the  skin  and  flesh  were  horribly  bm-ned." 

"  A  favorite  remark,"  said  Vance,  "  with  our  smug  apologists 
of  slavery,  is,  that  an  owner's  interests  will  make  him  treat  a 
slave  well.  Undoubtedly  in  many  cases  so  it  is.  But  I  have 
generally  found  that  human  malignity,  anger,  or  revenge  is 
more  tlian  a  match  for  human  avarice.  A  man  will  often 
gi'atify  his  spite  even  at  the  expense  of  his  pocket." 

Kenrick  showed  the  photograph  of  a  man  with  his  back 
scarred  as  if  by  a  shower  of  fire. 

"  This  poor  fellow,"  said  Kenrick,  "  shows  the  effects  of  the 
corn-husk  punishment ;  not  an  unusual  one  on  some  plantations. 
The  victim  is  stretched  out  on  the  ground,  with  hands  and  feet 
held  down.  Dry  corn-husks  are  then  lighted,  and  the  burning 
embers  are  whipped  off  wdth  a  stick  so  as  to  fall  in  showers  of 
live  sparks  on  the  naked  back.  Such  is  the  '  patriarchal ' 
system  !  Such  the  tender  mercies  bestowed  on  '  our  man-ser- 
vants and  our  maid-servants,'  as  that  artful  dodger,  Jeff  Davis, 
calls  our  plantation  slaves." 

'•  And  yet,"  remarked  Vance,  "  horrible  as  these  things  are, 
how  small  a  part  of  the  wrong  of  slavery  is  in  the  mere  physi- 
cal suffering  inflicted ! " 

"  Yes,  the  crowning  outrage  is  mental  and  moral." 
"  This  war,"  resumed  Vance,  "  is  not  sectional,  nor  geographi- 
♦  The  names  and  the  facts  are  real.     See  Harper's  Weekly,  July  4,  1868. 


THE  WOMAN  WHO  DELIBERATES  IS  LOST.  281 

cal,  nor,  in  a  party  sense,  political :  it  is  a  war  of  etei'nallj  an- 
tagonistic principles,  —  Belial  against  Gabriel." 

"  I  took  up  a  Northern  paper  to-day,"  said  Kenrick,  "  in 
which  the  writer  pleads  the  necessity  of  slavery,  because,  be 
says,  '  white  men  can't  work  in  the  rice-swamps.'  Truly,  a 
staggering  lU'gument !  The  whole  rice  production  of  the  Unit* 
ed  States  is  only  worth  some  four  millions  of  dollars  per 
annum  !  A  single  factory  in  Lowell  can  beat  that.  And  we 
are  asked  to  base  a  national  policy  on  such  considerations  ! " 

Here  the  approach  of  guests  led  to  a  change  of  topic. 

"  And  how  have  your  affairs  prospered  ?  "  asked  Vance. 

"  Ah  !  cousin,"  replied  Kenrick,  "  I  almost  blush  to  tell  you 
what  an  experience  I've  had." 

"  Not  fallen  in  love,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  If  it  is  n't  that,  't  is  something  very  near  it.  The  lady  is 
staying  with  Miss  Tremaine.  A  Miss  Perdita  Brown.  Onslow 
took  me  to  see  her." 

"  And  which  is  the  favored  admirer  ?  " 

"  Onslow,  I  fear.  I  'm  not  a  lady's  man,  you  see.  Indeed, 
I  never  wished  to  be  till  now.  Give  me  a  few  lessons,  cousin. 
Teach  me  a  little  small-talk." 

"  I  must  know  something  of  the  lady  first." 

"  To  begin  at  the  beginning,"  said  Kenrick,  "  there  can  be 
no  dispute  as  to  her  beauty.  But  there  is  a  something  in  her 
manner  that  puzzles  me.  Is  it  lack  of  sincerity  ?  Not  that. 
la  it  preoccupation  of  thought?  Sometimes  it  seems  that. 
And  then  some  apt,  flashing  remark  indicates  that  she  has  her 
wits  on  the  alert.  You  must  see  her  and  help  me  read  her. 
You  visit  Miss  Laura?" 

"  Yes.  I  '11  do  your  bidding,  Charles.  How  often  have  you 
seen  this  enchantress?" 

"  Too  often  for  my  peace  of  mind :  three  times." 

"  Is  she  a  coquette  ?  " 

"  If  one,  she  has  the  art  to  conceal  art.  There  seems  to  be 
something  on  her  mind  more  absorbing  than  the  desire  to  fasci- 
nate.    She's  an  unconscious  beauty." 

"  Say  a  deep  one.  Shall  we  meet  at  Miss  Tremaine's 
to-night  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  the  moth  knows  he  'U  get  singed,  but  flutter  he  must." 


282  PECULIAR. 

"  Take  comfort,  Charles,  in  that  of  thought  of  Tennyson's, 

who  tells  us, 

'  That  not  a  moth  with  vain  desire 
Is  shrivelled  in  a  fruitless  fire.'  " 

The  cousins  parted.  They  had  no  sooner  quitted  the  break- 
fast-room than  Onslow  entered.  After  a  hasty  meal,  he  took 
his  sword-belt  and  military-cap,  and  walked  forth  out  of  the 
hotel.  As  he  passed  Wakeman's  shop,  near  by,  for  the  sale  of 
books  and  periodicals,  he  was  attracted  by  a  photograph  in  a 
small  walnut  frame  in  the  window.  Stopping  to  examine  it,  he 
uttered  an  exclamation  of  surprise,  stepped  into  the  shop,  and 
said  to   Wakeman,   "  Where  did    you  get  that  photograph  ? " 

"  That  was  sent  here  with  several  others  by  the  photographer. 
You'll  find  his  name  on  the  back." 

"  1  see.     What  shall  I  pay  you  for  it  ?  " 

"  A  dollar." 

"  There  it  is." 

Onslow  took  the  picture  and  left  the  shop,  but  did  not  notice 
that  he  was  followed  by  a  well-dressed  gentleman  with  a  cigar 
in  his  mouth.  This  individual  had  been  for  several  days  watch- 
ing every  passer-by  who  looked  at  that  photograph.  He  now 
followed  Onslow  to  the  head-quarters  of  his  regiment ;  put  an 
inquiry  to  one  of  the  members  of  the  Captain's  company,  and 
then  strolled  away  as  if  he  had  moi-e  leisure  than  he  knew 
what  to  do  with.  But  no  sooner  had  he  turned  a  corner,  than 
he  entered  a  caniage  which  was  di'iven  off  at  great  speed. 

Not  an  hour  had  passed  when  a  black  man  in  livery  put  into 
Onslow's  hands  this  note  :  — 

"  Will  you  come  and  dine  with  me  at  five  to-day  without 
ceremony  ?     Please  reply  by  the  bearer. 

"Yours,  C.  Ratcliff." 

What  can  he  want  ?  thought  Onslow,  somewhat  gratified  by 
such  an  attention  from  so  importiint  a  leader.  Presuming  that 
the  object  merely  was  to  ask  some  questions  concerning  military 
matters,  the  Captain  turned  to  the  man  in  livery,  and  said, 
"  Tell  Mr.  RiitcHff"  I  wiU  come." 

Punctually  at  the  hour  of  five  Onslow  ascended  the  marble 
steps  of  Ratclilf  s  stately  house,  rang  the  bell,  and  was  ushered 
into  a  large  and  elegantly  furnished  drawing-room,  the  windows 


THE  WOMAN  WHO  DELIBERATES  IS  LOST.  283 

of  which  were  heavily  curtained  so  as  to  keep  out  the  glare  of 
the  too  fervid  sunlight  Pictures  and  statues  were  disposed 
about  the  apartment,  but  Onslow,  who  had  a  genuine  taste  for 
art,  could  find  nothing  that  he  would  covet  for  a  private  gallery 
of  his  own. 

Ratchff  entered,  habited  in  a  cool  suit  of  grass-cloth.  The 
light  hues  of  his  vest  and  neck-tie  heightened  tlie  contrast  of 
his  somewhat  florid  complexion,  which  had  now  lost  all  the 
smoothness  of  youth.  Self-indulgent  habits  had  faithfully  done 
their  work  in  moulding  liis  exterior.  Portly  and  puffy,  he 
looked  much  older  than  he  really  was.  But  in  his  manner  of 
greeting  Onslow  there  was  much  of  that  charm  which  renders 
the  hospitaUty  of  a  plantation  lord  so  attractive.  Throwing 
aside  all  that  arrogance  which  would  have  made  his  overseers 
and  tradespeople  keep  their  distance,  he  welcomed  Onslow 
like  an  old  friend  and  an  equal. 

"  You  've  a  superb  house  here,"  said  the  ingenuous  Captain. 

"  'T  will  do,  considering  that  I  sometimes  occupy  it  only  a 
month  in  the  year,"  rephed  Ratcliff.  "  I  'm  glad  to  say  1  only 
hii-e  it.  The  house  belonged  to  a  Miss  Aylesford,  a  Yankee 
heiress ;  then  passed  into  the  possession  of  a  New  York  man, 
one  Charlton  ;  but  I  pay  the  rent  into  the  coffers  of  the  Con- 
federate government.     The  property  is  confiscate." 

"  Won't  the  Yankees  retaliate  ?  " 

"  We  sha'n't  allow  them  to." 

"  After  we  've  whipped  Yankee-Doo-dle-dom,  what  then  ?  " 

"  Then  a  strong  military  government.  Having  our  slaves 
to  work  for  us,  we  shall  become  the  gi-eatest  martial  nation  in 
the  world.  Our  poor  whites,  now  a  weakness  and  a  burden, 
we  will  convert  into  soldiers  and  Cossacks  ;  excepting  the  arti- 
san and  trading  classes,  and  them  we  must  disfranchise."  * 

"  Can  we  expect  aid  from  England  ?  "  asked  Onslow. 

"Not  open  aid,  but  substantial  aid  nevertheless.  Exeter 
Hall  may  grumble.     The  doctrinaires,  the  Newmans,  Brights, 

*  Mr.  W.  S.  Grayson  of  Mississippi  writes,  in  De  Bow's  Eerie w  (August, 
1860):  "Civil  liberty  has  been  the  theme  of  praise  among  men,  and  most 
wrongfully.  This  is  the  infatuation  of  our  ago."  And  Mr.  George  Fitz- 
hugh  of  Virginia  writes:  "  Men  are  never  efficient  in  military  matters,  or  in 
industnal  pursuits,  until  wholly  deprived  of  their  liberty.  Loss  of  liberty  is 
no  disgrace.^' 


284  PECULIAR. 

Mills,  and  Cobdens  may  protest  and  agitate.  The  English 
clodhoppers,  mudsills,  and  workies  of  all  kinds  will  sympathize 
of  course  with  the  low-born  Yankees.  But  the  master  race  of 
England,  the  non-producers,  will  favor  the  same  class  here. 
The  disintegration  of  North  America  into  warring  States  is 
what  they  long  to  see.  Already  tlie  English  government  is 
swift  to  hail  us  as  belligerents.  Already  it  refuses  what  it 
once  so  eagerly  protfered,  —  an  international  treaty  making 
privateering  piracy.  Soon  it  will  let  us  fit  out  privateers 
in  English  ports.     Yes,  England  is  all  right." 

Here  a  slave-boy  announced  dinner,  and  they  entered  a 
smaller  but  lofty  apartment,  looking  out  on  a  garden,  and 
having  its  two  open  windows  pleasantly  latticed  with  grape- 
vines. A  handsome,  richly  dressed  quadroon  lady  sat  at  the 
table.  In  introducing  his  young  guest,  Ratcliff  addressed  her 
as  Madame  Yolney. 

Onslow,  in  his  innocence,  inquired  after  Mi-s.  EatclifF. 

"  My  wife  is  an  invalid,  and  rarely  quits  her  room,"  said  the 
host. 

The  dinner  was  sumptuous,  beginning  with  turtle-soup  and 
ending  with  ices  and  fruits.  The  costliest  Burgundies  and 
Champagnes  were  uncorked,  if  only  for  a  sip  of  their  flavoi's. 
Madame  Yolney,  half  French,  was  gracious  and  talkative, 
occasionally  checking  Ratcliff  in  liis  eating,  and  warning  him 
to  be  prudent.  At  last  cigars  were  brought  on,  and  she  left 
the  room.  Ratcliff  rose  and  listened  at  the  door,  as  if  to  be 
sure  she  had  gone  up-stairs.  Then,  walking  on  tiptoe,  he 
resumed  his  seat.  He  alluded  to  the  opera,  —  to  the  ballet,  — 
to  the  subject  of  pretty  women. 

"And  apropos  of  pretty  women,"  he  exclaimed,  "let  me 
show  you  a  photograph  of  one  I  have  in  my  pocket." 

As  he  spoke,  there  was  a  rustling  in  the  grape-vines  at  a 
window.     He  turned,  but  saw  nothing. 

Onslow  took  the  photograph,  and  exclaimed :  "  But  this  is 
astonishing !     I  've  a  copy  of  the  same  in  my  pocket." 

"You  surprise  me,  Captain.     Do  you  know  the  original?" 

"  Quite  well ;  and  I  grant  you  she  's  beautiful." 
Onslow  did  not  notice  the  expression  of  Ratcliff's  face  at 
this  confession,  but  another  did.     Lifting  a  glass  of  Burgundy 


THE  WOMAN   WHO  DELIBP:RATES  IS  LOST.  285 

BO  as  to  help  bis  affectation  of  indifference,  "  Confess  now, 
Captain,"  said  Ratcliff,  "  that  jou  're  a  favorite  !  That  delicate 
mouth  has  been  pressed  by  your  lips;  those  ivory  shoulders 
have  known  your  touch." 

"  O  never !  never ! "  returned  Onslow,  with  the  emphasis  of 
sincerity  in  his  tone.  "  You  misjudge  the  character  of  the 
lady.  She 's  a  friend  of  Miss  Tremaine,  —  is  now  passing 
a  few  days  with  her  at  the  St.  Charles.  A  lady  wholly 
respectable.  IMiss  Perdita  Brown  of  St.  Louis !  That  rascal- 
ly photographer  ought  to  be  whipped  for  making  money  out 
of  her  beautiful  picture." 

"  Has  she  admirers  in  her  train  ? "  asked  Ratcliff. 

"I  know  of  but  one  beside  myself." 

"  Indeed  !     And  who  is  he  ?  " 

"  Charles  Kenrick  has  called  on  her  with  me." 

"  By  the  way,  Wigman  tells  me  that  Charles  insulted  the 
flag  the  other  day." 

"  Poh !  Wigman  was  so  drunk  he  could  n't  distinguish  jest 
from  earnest." 

"  So  Robson  told  me.  But  touching  this  Miss  Brown,  —  is 
she  as  pretty  as  her  photograph  would  declare  ?  " 

"It  hardly  does  her  justice.  But  her  sweet  face  is  the 
least  of  her  chai-ms.  She  talks  well,  —  sings  well,  —  plays 
well,  —  and,  young  as  she  is,  has  the  bearing,  the  dignity,  the 
grace,  of  the  consummate  lady." 

Here  there  was  another  rustling,  as  if  the  grape-vine  were 
pulled.  Ratcliff  started,  went  to  the  window,  looked  out,  but, 
seeing  nothing,  remarked,  "  The  wind  must  be  rising,"  and 
returned  to  his  seat.  "  I  've  omitted,"  said  he,  "  to  ask  after 
your  family ;  are  they  well  ?  " 

"Yes;  they  were  in  Austin  when  I  heard  from  them  last. 
My  father,  I  grieve  to  say,  goes  with  Hamilton  and  his  set  in 
opposition  to  the  Southern  movement.  My  brother,  William 
Temple,  is  equally  infatuated.  My  mother  and  sister  of 
course  acquiesce.     So  I  'm  the  only  faithful  one  of  my  family." 

"You  deserve  a  colonelcy  for  that." 

"Thank  you.     Is  your  clock  right?" 

«  Yes." 

"  Then  I  must  go.     I  Ve  an  engagement.'* 


286  PECULIAR. 

"  Sorry  for  it.  Beware  of  Miss  Brown.  This  is  the  Jay 
of  Mars,  not  Venus.     Good  by." 

When  Onslow  had  gone,  Ratcliff  sat  five  minutes  as  if  medi- 
tating on  some  plan.  Then,  drawing  forth  a  pocket-book,  he 
took  out  an  envelope,  —  wrote  on  it,  —  reflected,  —  and  wrote 
again.  When  he  had  finished,  he  ordered  the  carriage  to 
be  brought  to  the  door.  As  he  was  passing  through  the  hall, 
Madame  Volney,  from  the  stairs,  asked  where  he  was  going. 

"  To  the  St.  Charles,  on  political  business." 

"  Don't  be  out  late,  dear,"  said  Madame.  "  Let  me  see  how 
you  look.  Your  neck-tie  is  out  of  place.  Let  me  fix  it.  There ! 
And  your  vest  needs  buttoning.  So!"  And  as  her  dehcate 
hands  passed  around  his  person,  they  slid  unperceived  into  a 
side-pocket  of  his  coat,  and  drew  forth  what  he  had  just  de- 
posited there. 

"  Bother  !  That  will  do,  Josephine,"  grumbled  Ratcliff.  She 
released  him  with  a  kiss.  He  descended  the  marble  steps  of 
the  house,  entered  a  carnage,  and  drove  off. 

Madame  passed  into  the  dining-room,  the  brilliant  gas-hghts 
of  which  had  not  yet  been  lowered,  and,  opening  the  pocket- 
book,  drew  out  several  photographic  cards,  all  containing  one 
and  the  same  likeness  of  a  young  and  beautiful  girl.  As  the 
quadroon  scanned  that  fresh  vernal  countenance,  that  adorably 
innocent,  but  earnest  and  intelligent  expression,  those  thick, 
wavy  tresses,  and  that  exquisitely  moulded  bust,  her  own  hand- 
some face  grew  grim  and  ugly  by  the  transmuting  power  of 
anger  and  jealousy.  "  So,  tliis  is  the  game  he 's  pureuing,  is 
it  ?  "  she  muttered.  "  This  is  what  makes  him  restive  !  Not 
politics,  as  he  pretends,  but  this  smoothed-faced  decoy !  Deep 
as  you  've  kept  it,  Ratcliff,  I  've  fathomed  you  at  last ! " 

Searching  further  among  his  papers,  she  found  an  envelope, 
on  which  certain  memoranda  were  pencilled,  and  among  them 
these:  ^^  First  see  Tremaine.  Arrange  for  seizure  without  scan- 
dal or  noise.  Early  in  morning  call  on  Gentry,  —  have  her 
prepared.     Take  Esha  with  us  to  help." 

Hardly  had  Madame  time  to  read  this,  when  a  carriage 
stopped  before  the  door.  Laying  the  pocket-book  with  its  con- 
tents, as  if  undisturbed,  on  the  table,  she  ran  half-way  up-stairs. 
Ratcliff  re-entered,  and,  after  looking  about  the  hall,  passed  into 


THE  WOMAN  WHO  DELIBERATES  IS  LOST.  287 

the  dming-room.  "  Ah  !  here  it  is ! "  she  heard  him  say  to  the 
attendant ;  "  I  could  have  sworn  I  put  it  in  my  pocket."  He 
tlien  left  the  house,  and  the  carriage  again  di'ove  off,  —  drove  to 
the  St.  Charles,  where  Ratcliff  had  a  long  private  interview 
with  the  pliable  Tremaine. 

While  it  was  going  on,  Laura  and  Clara  sat  in  the  drawing- 
room,  waiting  for  company.  Laura  having  disapproved  of  the 
costume  in  which  Clara  had  first  appeared,  the  latter  now  wore 
a  plain  robe  of  black  silk ;  and  around  her  too  beautiful  neck 
Laura  had  put  a  collar,  large  enough  to  be  called  a  cape,  fast- 
ening it  in  front  with  an  old-fashioned  cameo  pin.  But  how 
provoking !  This  dress  would  insist  on  being  more  becoming 
even  than  the  other  ! 

Vance  was  the  earliest  of  the  visitors.  On  being  introduced 
to  Clara,  he  bowed  as  if  they  had  never  met  before.  Then, 
seating  himself  by  Laura,  he  devoted  himself  assiduously  to 
her  entertainment.  Clara  turned  over  the  leaves  of  a  music- 
book,  and  took  no  part  in  the  conversation.  Yes  !  It  was  plain 
that  Vance  was  deeply  interested  in  the  superficial,  but  showy 
Laura.      Well,  what  better  could  be  expect-ed  of  a  man  ? 

Once  more  was  Laura  sunmaoned  to  the  bed-side  of  her 
mother.  "  How  vexatious  !  "  Regretfully  she  left  the  drawing- 
room.  As  soon  as  she  had  gone,  Vance  rose,  and,  taking  a  seat 
by  Clara,  offered  her  his  hand.  She  returned  its  cordial  press- 
ure. "  My  dear  young  friend,"  he  said,  "  tell  me  everything. 
What  can  I  do  for  you  ?  " 

O,  that  she  might  fling  herself  on  that  strong  arm  and  tender 
heart !  That  she  might  disclose  to  him  her  whole  situation  ! 
Impulses,  eager  and  tumultuous,  urged  her  to  do  this.  Then 
there  was  a  struggle  as  if  to  keep  down  the  ready  confession. 
Pride  battled  with  the  feminine  instinct  that  claimed  a  protector. 

What !  This  man,  on  whom  she  had  no  more  claim  than  on 
the  veriest  stranger,  —  should  she  put  upon  him  the  burden  of 
her  confidence  ?  This  man  who  in  one  minute  had  whispered 
more  flattering  things  in  the  ear  of  Laura  than  he  had  said  to 
Clara  during  the  whole  of  their  acquaintance,  —  should  she  ask 
favors  from  him  ?  O,  if  he  would,  by  look  or  word,  but  betray 
that  he  felt  an  interest  in  her  beyond  that  of  mere  friendship  ! 
But  then  came  the  frightful  thought,  "  I  am  a  slave  ! "    And 


288  PECULIAR. 

Clara  shuddered  to  think  that  no  honorable  attachment  between 
her  and  a  gentleman  could  exist. 

"  What  of  tliat  ?  Surely  I  mav  claim  from  him  the  help 
which  any  true  man  ought  to  lend  to  a  woman  threatened  with 
outrage.  Stop  there  !  Does  not  the  chivalry  of  the  plantation 
revei*se  the  notions  of  the  old  knight-errants,  and  give  heed  to 
no  damsel  in  distress,  unless  she  can  show  free  papers  ?  Xay, 
will  not  the  representative  of  the  blood  of  all  the  cavaliers  look 
calmly  on,  and  smoke  his  cigar,  while  a  woman  is  bound  naked 
to  a  tree  and  scourged  ?  " 

And  then  her  mind  ran  rapidly  over  certain  stories  which  a 
slave-girl,  once  temporarily  hired  by  INIrs.  Gentry,  had  told  of 
the  punishments  of  female  slaves  :  how,  for  claiming  too  long  a 
respite  from  work  after  childbii-th,  they  had  been  "  fastened  up 
by  their  wrists  to  a  beam,  or  to  a  branch  of  a  tree,  theij  feet 
barely  touching  the  ground,"  and  in  that  position  horribly 
scourged  with  a  leather  thong;  perhaps,  the  father,  brother, 
or  husband  of  the  victim  being  compelled  to  officiate  as  the 
scourger !  * 

"  But  surely  this  man,  whose  very  glance  seems  shelter  and 
protection,  —  this  true  and  generous  gentleman,  —  must  belong 
to  a  very  different  order  of  chivaliy  from  that  of  the  Davises, 
the  Lees,  and  the  Toombses.  Yes  !  I  '11  stake  my  life  he  's 
another  kind  of  cavalier  from  those  foul,  obscene,  and  dastardly 
woman-whipping  miscreants  and  scoundrels.  Yes  !  I  '11  com- 
ply with  that  gracious  entreaty  of  his,  '  Tell  me  everything !  * 
I'll  confess  all." 

Her  heart  throbbed.  She  was  on  the  point  of  uttering  that 
one  name,  Ratcliff,  —  a  sound  that  would  have  inspired  Vance 
with  the  power  and  wisdom  of  an  archangel  to  rescue  her,  — 
when  there  were  voices  at  the  door,  and  Laura  entered,  fol- 
lowed by  Onslow.  They  brought  with  them  a  noise  of  talking 
and  laughing.     Soon  Kenrick  joined  the  party. 

The  golden  opportunity  seemed  to  have  slipped  by ! 

To  Kenrick's  gaze  Clara  never  appeared  so  transcendent. 
But  there  was  an  unwonted  paleness  on  her  cheeks  ;  and  what 
meant  that  thoughtful  and  serious  air  ?  For  a  sensitive  moral 
barometer  commend  us  to  a  lover's  heart ! 

*  Testimony  of  Mrs.  Fanny  Kemble  to  facts  within  her  knowledge. 


THE  WOMAN  WHO  DELIBERATES  IS  LOST.  289 

Of  course  there  was  music ;  and  Clara  sang. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  her  voice  ?  "  asked  Laiu'a  of  Vance. 

"  It  justifies  all  your  praises,"  was  the  reply  ;  and  then,  see- 
ing that  CLira  was  not  in  the  mood  for  display,  he  took  her 
place  at  the  piano,  and  i-attled  away  just  as  Laura  requested. 
Onslow  tried  to  engage  Clai*a  in  conversation ;  but  a  cloud,  as 
if  from  some  impending  Ul,  was  pjilpably  over  her. 

Kenrick  sat  by  in  silence,  deaf  to  the  brilliant  music- 
Clara's  presence,  with  its  subtle  magnetism,  had  steeped  his 
own  thoughts  in  the  prevailing  hue  of  hers.  Suddenly  he 
turned  to  her,  and  whispered :  "  You  want  help.  What  is 
it?  Grant  me  the  privilege  of  a  brother.  What  can  I  do 
for  you  ?  " 

The  glance  Clara  turned  upon  him  was  so  full  of  thanks, 
so  radiant  with  gratitude,  that  hope  sprang  in  his  heai't.  But 
before  she  could  put  her  reply  in  words,  Laura  had  come  up, 
and  taken  her  away  to  the  piano  for  a  concluding  song.  Clai'a 
gave  them  Longfellow's  "  Rainy  Day  "  to  Dempster's  music. 

The  little  gilt  clock  over  the  mantel  tinkled  eleven. 

Vance  rose  to  go,  and  said  to  Laura,  "  May  I  call  on  Miss 
Brown  to-morrow  with  some  new  music  ?  " 

"  I  '11  answer  for  her,  yes,"  replied  Laura.  "  We  shall  be  at 
home  any  time  after  twelve." 

The  gentlemen  all  took  leave.  Onslow  made  his  exit  the 
last.  A  rose  that  had  been  fastened  in  Clara's  waist  dropped 
on  the  floor.     "  May  I  have  it  ?  "  he  asked,  picking  rt  np. 

"  Wliy  not  ?  I  wish  it  were  fresher.  Good  night ! "  And 
she  put  out  her  hand.  Onslow  eagerly  pressed  it ;  but  Clara, 
lifting  his,  said,  "  May  this  hand  never  strike  except  for  justice 
and  human  freedom  !  " 

"  Amen  to  that ! "  replied  Onslow,  before  he  weU  took  in  the 
entire  meaning  of  what  she  had  said. 

He  hastened  to  rejoin  his  friends,  following  them  thi*ou^  the 
corridor.  He  seemed  to  tread  on  air.  "  I  was  the  only  one 
she  offered  to  shake  hands  with  ! "  he  exultingly  soliloquized. 

The  three  parted,  after  an  interchange  of  good  nights.  Both 
Onslow  and  Kenrick  betook  themselves  to  their  rooms,  each 
with  no  desire  for  other  companionship  than  his  own  rose- 
colored  dreams. 

13  s 


290  PECULIAR. 


CHAPTER    XXX. 

A   FEMDiIXE   VAN   AMBURGH. 

"  She  who  ne'er  auswers  till  a  husbaud  cools, 
Or,  if  she  rules  him,  never  shows  she  rules."  —  Pope. 

THE  moniiiig  after  the  dinner,  Madame  Volney  rose  at 
sunrise,  and  was  stealing  on  tiptoe  into  her  dressing- 
room,  when  Ratcliff,  always  a  late  riser,  grumbled,  "  What 's 
the  matter  ?  " 

"  There  's  to  be  an  early  church-service,"  she  replied. 

"  Bah  !     You  're  always  going  to  church  ! " 

The  quadi'oon  made  no  reply,  but  gently  retired,  dressed,  and 
glided  out  of  the  house  into  the  open  air.  On  through  the  yet 
deserted  streets  she  swiftly  passed.  A  white  fog  brooded  over 
the  city.  Heavy-^vinged  sea-birds  were  slowly  making  their 
way  overhead  to  the  marshes  of  Lake  Ponchartrain,  or  still 
farther  out  to  the  beaches  of  the  Gulf.  The  sound  of  drums 
and  fifes  in  the  distance  occasionally  broke  the  matutinal  still- 
ness. The  walls  of  the  streets  were  covered  with  placards  of 
meetings  of  volunteer  companies,  —  of  the  Wigman  Rifles,  the 
MacMahon  Guards,  the  Beauregard  Lancers,  the  Black  Flag 
Invincibles. 

After  half  an  hour's  walk,  the  quadroon  paused  before  a 
house,  on  the  door  of  which  was  a  brass  plate  presenting  the 
words.  —  •'  Mrs.  Gentiy  s  Seminary  for  Young  Ladies."  While 
she  looked  and  hesitated,  a  black  girl  came  up  from  some  steps 
leading  into  the  basement,  and  with  a  mop  and  pail  of  water 
proceeded  to  wash  the  sidewalk. 

*'  Is  Esha  in  ?  "  asked  the  quadi'oon. 

"  Yes,  missis,  Esha  am  in.  Jes  you  go  down  dem  steps  inter 
de  kitchen,  an'  dai*  you  '11  fine  Esha,  sui-e."  And  taking  the 
direction  pointed  out,  Madame  found  herself  in  the  presence  of 
a  large,  powerfully  built  mulatto  woman,  who  was  engaged  in 
preparations  for  breakfast. 


A   1-EMlXlXi:   VAN   AxMBUKGH.  291 

«Is  this  Esha?" 
"  Yes,  missis,  dis  am  nob'dj  else." 
*'  Esha,  I  want  a  few  minutes'  talk  with  you." 
"  Take  a  char,  den,  missis,  and  'scuse  my  looks." 
"  You  look  like  a  good  woman,  Esha,  so  no  matter  for  dress." 
"  Tahnk  yer,  missis.    Esha  's  like  de  res',  —  not  too  good, — 
but  nebdeless  dai-  's  wuss  folks  dan  she." 

"  Esha,  who  is  tliis  young  girl  Mr.  Ratcliff  is  after  ?  " 
Esha's  eyes  snapped,  and  she  looked  sharply  at  her  visitor. 
"Why  you  want  ter  know?"  she  asked. 
"  Are  you  a  slave,  Esha  ?  " 

"  Yes,  missis,  I  'se  born  a  slabe,  —  hab  libd  a  slabe,  an'  'spek 
to  die  a  slabe." 

"I  too  am  a  slave,  Esha.  I  belonged  to  old  Etienne  La 
Harpe,  who  died  six  years  ago.  Though  I  had  had  two  chil- 
dren, one  by  liim  and  one  by  his  son,  the  old  man's  widow  sent 
me  to  the  auction-block.  I  was  sold  to  the  liighest  bidder.  I 
was  bought  by  JVIi\  Carberry  Ratcliff." 
"  Ah !  by  him  ?  by  him  ?  "  muttered  Esha. 
"  I  was  handsome.  He  made  me  his  favorite.  I  Ve  been 
faithful  to  him.  Even  his  wife,  poor  thing,  blesses  the  day  I 
came  into  the  house.  She  would  have  died  long  ago  but  for 
my  care.  The  slaves,  too,  come  to  me  with  their  sorrows.  I 
do  what  I  can  for  their  relief.  I  am  not,  by  nature,  a  bad 
woman.  I  would  continue  to  serve  this  man  and  his  house- 
hold." 

"  Do  yer  lub  him,  —  dis  Massa  Ratcliff?  " 
"  That 's  a  hard  question,  Esha.  He  has  treated  me  like  a 
lady.  1  am  practically  at  the  head  of  his  house.  I  have  a 
carriage  at  my  command.  He  gives  me  all  the  money  I  ask 
for.  He  prizes  me  for  my  prudence  and  good  temper.  I  love 
him  so  far  as  this  :  I  should  hate  the  woman  who  threatened  to 
step  between  me  and  him.  Now  tell  me  who  Ihis  girl  is  whose 
photogi-aph  he  has." 

"  She,  missis  ?     She  am  a  slabe  too." 

"  She  a  slave  ?     Whose  slave  ?  " 

«  She  'longs  to  Massa  Ratcliff! " 

"  And  he  has  kept  it  a  secret  from  me  !  " 

Esha,  like  most  slaves,  was  a  quick  judge  of  character.     She 


292  PECULIAR. 

had  an  almost  intuitive  perception  of  shams.  Convinced  of  the 
quadroon's  sincerity,  she  now  threw  a  cushion  on  the  floor,  and, 
seating  herself  on  it  after  the  Oriented  fashion,  frankly  told  the 
whole  stoiy  of  the  child  Clara,  and  disclosed  the  true  nature 
of  her  own  relations  to  RatclifF.  When  she  had  concluded, 
Madame  Volney  impulsively  kissed  her. 

"  And  are  you  sure,"  she  asked,  '*  quite  sure  that  little 
Darling,  as  you  call  her,  will  resist  Ratcliff  to  the  last  ?  " 

"  Dat  chile  will  sooner  die  dan  gib  up  ter  dat  ole  man. 
What  you  'spose  she  went  out  ter  buy  dat  day  I  met  her  last  ? 
Wall,  missis,  she  buyed  a  dagger." 

"  Good !  I  love  her ! "  cried  Madame  Volney,  with  flushed 
cheeks.     "  But  Esha,  do  you  know  where  she  is  now  ?  " 

"  Yes,  missis  ;  but  I  tink  I  better  not  tell  eb'n  you,  —  'cause 
you  see  —  " 

"  She 's  with  ]\Iiss  Tremaine,  at  the  St.  Charles  ! " 

"  De  Lord  help  us !  How  yer  know  dat,  missis  ?  "  cried 
Esha,  alai-med.     "  Do  Massa  Ratcliff  know  'bout  it  ? " 

"  He  knows  it  all,  and  has  made  his  preparations  for  seizing 
the  girl  tliis  very  day.  He  '11  be  here  this  morning  to  give  you 
your  directions.  Now,  Esha,  don't  make  a  blunder.  Don't 
let  him  see  that  you  're  the  girl's  friend.  Say  nothing  of  my 
visit.  I'll  tell  you  what  I  suspect:  Ratcliff  knows  his  wife 
can't  live  three  months  longer.  He  has  never  had  a  child  by 
her.  All  his  children  are  mulattoes  and  illegitimate.  The 
desire  of  his  heaii;  is  for  a  lawful  heir.  He  means  —  Are 
you  sure  the  girl  is  white  ?  " 

"I  tell  yer,  missis,  whoebber  sold  her,  fust  stained  her 
skin  to  put  up  de  price.  Should  n't  be  'stonished  if  dat  chile 
was  kidnapped." 

Madame  Volney  looked  at  her  watch.  "Esha,"  she  said, 
"  you  '11  be  employed  by  Ratcliff  to  help  secure  her  person.  If, 
when  he  comes  to  you,  the  ribbon  on  his  straw  hat  is  green^  do 
as  he  tells  you.  Should  the  ribbon  be  hlack,  tell  him  to  wait 
ten  minutes.  Then  do  you  run  round  the  comer  to  Aurora 
Street,  where  you  '11  see  a  carriage  with  a  white  handkerchief 
held  out  at  the  right-hand  window.  You  '11  find  me  there. 
We  '11  drive  to  the  St.  Charles,  and  take  the  girl  with  us 
somewhere  out  of  Ratcliff 's  reach.  Can  you  remember  all 
I  've  told  you  ?  " 


A  FEMININE  VAN  AMBURGH.  293 

"  Ebry  word  ob  it,  missis !  Talink  de  Lord  fur  sendin'  yer. 
"Watch  Massa  Ratcliff  sharp.  Fix  him  sure,  missis,  —  fix 
him  sure !  " 

''  Trust  me,  Esha !  He  seizes  no  young  girl  to-day,  unless  I 
let  him.     But  be  very  prudent.     You  may  need  money." 

"  No,  missis.     No  pay  fur  tellin'  de  troof." 

"  But  you  may  need  it  for  the  child's  salie." 

•'  0  yis,  missis.     I  '11  take  it  fur  de  chile,  sure." 

Madame  Volney  placed  in  her  hands  thirty  dollars  in  gold, 
then  left  the  house,  and,  hailing  a  carriage  at  a  neighboring 
stand,  told  the  driver  where  to  take  her.  "  Double  speed, 
double  fare  ! "  she  added.     In  ten  minutes  she  was  at  home. 

Ratcliff  had  not  yet  come  down.  He  had  rung  the  bell,  and 
given  orders  for  an  earl}^  breakfast.  Madame  went  up  to  her 
dressing-room,  and  put  on  her  most  becoming  moramg  attire. 
"We  have  called  her  a  quadroon  ;  but  her  complexion  was  of 
that  clear  golden  hue,  mixed  with  olive  and  a  dash  of  carna- 
tion, which  so  many  Southern  amateurs  prefer  to  the  pure  red 
and  white  of  a  light-haired  Anglo-Saxon. 

When  Ratcliff  came  down,  he  complimented  her  on  her  good 
looks,  and  kissed  her. 

"  I  Ve  been  to  confession,"  she  said,  as  she  touched  the  tap 
of  a  splendid  silver  urn,  and  let  hot  water  into  the  cups. 

"  And  what  have  you  been  confessing,  Josy  ?  " 

"  I  've  been  confessing  how  very  foolish  I  're  been  the  last 
few  months." 

"  Foolish  in  what,  Josephine  ?  " 

"  Foolish  in  my  jealousy  oiyour 

"  Jealousy  ?  What  cause  have  I  given  you  for  jealousy  ? 
I  've  been  too  much  bothered  about  public  matters  to  have 
time  to  think  of  any  woman  but  you." 

"  That 's  partly  true.  But  don't  I  know  what  you  most 
desire  of  earthly  things  ?  " 

"  Of  course  !  You  know  I  desire  the  success  of  the  South- 
ern Confederacy,  corner-stone  and  all." 

"  No,  not  that.     You  covet  one  thing  even  more  than  that." 

"Indeed!     What  is  it?" 

"  A  legitimate  child  who  may  inherit  your  wealth,  and  trans- 
mit your  name.'* 


294  rKCL'UAR. 

"  Yes,  I  'd  like  a  child.  But  we  must  take  things  as  they 
come  along.  You  must  n't  be  jealous  because  now  and  then  I 
may  have  dropped  a  hint  of  regret  that  I  've  no  direct  hen-  to 
my  estate." 

"  Y'ou  've  not  confined  yourself  to  hints.  l"ou  've  been  prov- 
ident in  act  as  well  as  in  thought." 

"  What  the  deuce  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Don't  be  angry  when  I  tell  you,  you  have  n't  planned  a 
plan,  the  last  three  months,  of  which  I  have  n't  been  aware." 

"  Well,  I  've  always  thought  you  the  keenest  worajm  of  my 
acquaintance ;  but  I  'd  like  to  have  it  put  through  my  hair 
what  you  're  exactly  driving  at  now.     What  is  it  ? " 

"  Tliis :  I  know  your  scheme  in  regard  to  ]\Iiss  Murray,  and, 
what  is  more,  I  liighly  approve  of  it." 

"  Y^'ou  're  the  Devil ! "  exclaimed  RatcliiF,  starting  up  from 
his  seat.  Then,  seeing  Josephine's  unaffected  smile  and  evi- 
dent good  humor,  he  sat  down. 

"  At  first  I  was  a  little  chagrined,"  she  said,  "  especially  when 
I  found  Mademoiselle  so  very  pretty.  But  I  've  reflected  much 
on  it  since,  and  talked  with  my  confessor  about  it." 

"  The  deuce  you  have  !     Talked  with  your  confessor,  eh  ?  " 

"  Yes,  with  my  confessor.  And  the  result  is,  that,  so  far 
from  opposing  you  in  your  plan,  I  've  concluded  to  give  it  my 
support." 

''  And  what  do  you  understand  to  be  my  plan  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  't  is  vague  even  in  your  own  mmd  as  yet.  But 
I  '11  tell  you  what  I  mean.  Yom*  wife  is  not  likely  to  live 
many  weeks  longer.  Y^ou  '11  inherit  from  her  a  lai-ge  estate. 
Y"ou  '11  wish  to  marry  again,  and  tliis  time  with  a  view  to 
offspring.  Both  taste  and  policy  will  lead  you  to  choose  a 
young  and  accomplished  woman.  Who  more  suitable  than 
I^Iiss  Murray?" 

"  Why,  Josephine,  she  's  a  slave  ! " 

"  A  slave,  is  she  ?  Look  me  in  the  face  and  tell  me,  if  you 
can,  you  believe  she  has  a  drop  of  African  blood  in  her  veins. 
No  !  That  child  must  have  been  kidnapped.  And  you  have 
often  suspected  as  much." 

"  T^Tiere  the  Devil  —  Confound  the  woman ! "  muttered 
Ratcliff,  half  fiightened  at  what  looked  like  clairvoyance. 


A  FEMININE  VAN  AMBURGH.  295 

*'  Yes,"  she  continued,  "  her  parents  must  have  been  of 
gentle  blood.     Look  at  her  hands  and  feet.     Hear  her  speak." 

"  What  is  there  yO'U  don't  find  out,  Josy  ?  "  exclaimed  Rat- 
cliff.  "  Here  you  tell  me  things  that  have  been  working  in  my 
mind,  which  I  was  hardly  aware  of  myself  till  you  mentioned 
them  ! " 

"  O,  I  've  known  all  about  your  search  for  the  girl.  'T  was 
not  till  after  a  struggle  I  could  reconcile  it  to  my  mind  to  lend 
you  my  aid.  But  this  was  what  I  thought :  He  will  soon  be  a 
widower.  He  will  desire  to  marry ;  not  that  he  does  not  love 
his  Josy  — " 

"  Yes,  Josy,  you  're  right  there  ;  you  're  a  jewel  of  a  woman. 
Such  devilish  good  common  sense  !     Go  on." 

"  He  would  marry,  not  that  he  does  not  love  his  Josy,  but 
because  he  wants  a  legitimate  child  of  his  own.  That 's  but 
natural  and  proper.  Why  should  I  oppose  it,  and  thus  give 
him  cause  to  cast  me  out  from  his  affections  ?  Why  not  give 
him  new  reason  for  attachment,  by  showing  him  I  am  capable 
of  a  sacrifice  for  his  sake  ?  Yes,  he  will  love  me  none  the  less 
for  letting  him  see  that  without  one  jealous  pang  I  can  help 
him  to  a  young  and  beautiful  wife." 

"  But,  Josy,  would  you  really  recommend  my  marrying  this 
girl?" 

"  Why  not  ?     Where  will  you  find  her  equal  ?  " 

"  But  just  think  of  it,  —  she  was  sold  to  me  at  public  auction 
as  a  slave." 

"  Yes,  and  the  next  day  Mrs.  Gentry  wrote  you  that  the 
coloring  stuff  had  washed  off  from  her  skin,  and  she  was  whiter 
than  any  one  in  the  school.  You  wrote  not  a  word  in  reply. 
But  did  not  the  thought  occur  to  you,  the  child  has  been  kid- 
napped ?  Of  course  it  did  !  In  this  great  city  of  rogues  and 
murderers,  did  you  not  consider  there  were  plenty  of  men 
capable  of  such  an  act?     Deny  it  if  you  can." 

"  Josy,  you  're  enough  to  unsteady  a  man's  nerves.  How 
did  you  discover  there  was  such  a  being  as  Miss  Murray  ?  and 
how  did  you  get  out  of  my  miud  what  I  had  thought  about  the 
kidnapping  ?  and  how,  what  I  myself  had  hardly  dreamed  of, 
the  idea,  namely,  of  making  her  my  wife  ?  " 

"  When   one   loves,"  replied   Josephine,  "  one  is  quick  to 


296  PECULIAR. 

watch,  and  sharp  to  deteot.  At  tirst,  as  I  Ve  told  you,  I 
was  disposed  to  be  jealous.  But  reflection  soon  convinced  me 
't  would  be  for  your  liai)])incss  to  take  tliis  young  person,  now 
in  the  false  position  of  a  slave,  and  educate  lier  for  your  wife. 
Even  if  the  world  should  know  her  story,  what  would  you 
care  ?  You  're  above  all  social  cnticism.  Besides,  would  it 
not  be  comical  for  our  swai-thy  Creole  ladies  to  snufF  at  such  a 
beautiful  blonde,  whose  very  presence  would  give  the  lie  to  all 
that  malice  could  insinuate  as  to  her  birth  ?" 

"  O,  I  don't  care  for  what  society  may  say.  I  'ra  out  of  the 
reach  of  its  sneers.  And  what  you  urge,  Josy,  is  reasonable, — 
very.  Yes,  she  's  a  remarkably  fine  girl,  and  I  've  certainly 
taken  a  strong  fancy  to  her.  Some  of  our  first  young  men  are 
already  deep  in  love  with  her.  Of  course  she  'd  be  eternally 
grateful,  if  I  were  to  emancipate  her  and  make  her  my  wife." 

Josepliine  could  hardly  repress  a  smile  of  triumph  to  see  this 
thorough-bred  tyrant,  who  knew  no  law  but  his  own  Avill,  thus 
falling  into  the  snare  she  was  so  delicately  spreading  for  him. 
Something  of  the  satisfaction  Van  Ambiu-gh  might  have  felt 
when  his  tiger  succumbed,  spread  its  glow  over  her  cheeks. 
Never  in  his  coai^e  calculations  had  Ratcliff  thought  of  showing 
Clara  any  further  mercy  than  he  had  shown  to  the  humblest 
of  his  concubines.  And  yet  Josephine,  by  her  apt  suggestions, 
had  half  persuaded  him,  little  given  as  he  was  to  introspective 
analysis,  that  the  idea  of  making  the  girl  his  wife  had  origi- 
nated in  his  own  mind  I 

"•  Did  he  keep  the  whole  story  from  her  because  he  supposed 
Josy  would  be  jealous  ?  "  asked  the  quadroon,  with  a  caress. 

"  Why,  yes,  Josy  ;  to  tell  the  truth,  I  thought  there  'd  have 
to  be  a  scene  sure,  when  you  found  out  I  'd  been  educating 
such  a  girl  vdih  a  view  to  her  taking  your  place  some  time. 
So  I  kept  dark.  But  you  're  a  trump,  —  you  are  !  I  should 
n't  wonder  if  you  could  acquire  the  same  influence  over  her 
that  you  now  have  over  my  wife." 

"  Easily  ! "  said  Josephine.  "  I  've  seen  her.  I  like  her. 
I  know  we  should  agi-ee.  When  she  learns  it  was  my  wish 
you  should  emancipate  and  marry  her.  she  will  regard  me  as 
her  friend.     I  can  teach  her  not  to  be  jealous  of  me." 

"  Capital  I "  exclaimed  Ratcliff.     '*  Josy  can  remain  where 


A  1-EMININE   VAN  AMBURGH.  297 

she  is  in  the  family.  Josy  will  not  have  to  abdicate.  There  '11 
be  no  unpleasant  row  between  the  two  women.  The  whole 
thing  can  be  harmoniously  managed." 

"  Why  not,  Carberry  ?  And  let  me  say  'f  would  be  folly 
to  seize  this  girl  rudely,  wounding  her  pride  and  rousing  her 
resentment.  The  true  way  is  to  decoy  her  gently  till  you  get 
her  into  your  possession,  and  then  secui-e  her  by  such  means 
as  I  can  suggest." 

"  Hang  me,  but  you  're  right  again,  Josy  !     I  had  thought 
of  carrying  her  off  this  very  day." 
"  Yes,  I  supposed  so." 

"  Supposed  so  ?     Where  in  the  name  of  all  the  devils  did 
you  get  your  information  ?     For  there  's  but  one  person  beside 
myself  who  knows  anything  about  it." 
"  And  that  's  Mr.  Tremaine  !  " 
"  So  it  is,  by  Jove  !     How  did  you  know  it  ?  " 
"  I  put  this  and  that  together,  and  drew  an  inference.      You 
mean  to  place  her  again,  for  the  present,  at  Mrs.  Gentry's." 

"  True !  That  was  my  plan.  But  I  had  n't  mentioned  it  to 
a  soul." 

"  What  of  that  ?  Where  one  loves,  one  has  such  insight ! 
But  is  there  any  one  at  Mrs.  Gentry's  on  whom  you  can  rely 
to  keep  watch  of  the  girl  ?  " 

"  Yes,  there  's  an  old  slave- woman,  —  Esha.  She  has  a 
grudge  against  the  little  miss,  and  is  n't  likely  to  be  too  in- 
dulgent." 

"  But  why,  Carberry,  would  you  take  the  little  miss  to  Mi-s. 
Gentry's  rather  than  to  your  own  house  ?  I  see  !  You  thought 
I  would  be  in  the  way ;  that  I  would  be  jealous  of  her  !  Con- 
fess ! " 

"  Yes,  Josy,  I  did  n't  think  anything  else." 
"  Well,  now,  let  me  plan  for  you :  first,  I,  with  Esha,  wUl 
call  on  her.  Esha  can  easily  persuade  her  that  the  best  thing 
she  can  do  will  be  to  come  with  us  to  this  house.  We  '11  have 
the  blue  room  ready  for  her.  It  being  between  two  other 
rooms,  and  having  no  other  exit  than  through  them,  she  will 
not  have  another  chance  to  abscond.  Esha  would  perhaps  be 
a  suitable  person  to  keep  guard.  But  then  probably  Mi-s.  Gen- 
try would  n't  part  with  Esha." 
13* 


298  PECULIAR. 

"  Bah  !  Gentry  will  have  to  do  as  I  order,  or  see  her  school 
broken  up  as  an  Abolition  concern.  Your  plan  strikes  me 
favorably.  Josy  ;  but  what  if  the  girl  should  refuse  to  accom- 
pany you  ?  " 

"We  can  have  an  officer  close  by  to  apply  to  in  case  of 
need." 

"  Of  course  !     What  a  woman  you  are  for  plotting  !  " 

"  Yes,  Carberry,  give  me  carte  Uanche  to  act  for  you,  and 
I  '11  have  her  here  before  one  o'clock.  But  there  's  a  condi- 
tion, Carberr}^" 

"  Name  it,  Josy." 

"  It  is,  that  so  long  as  your  present  wife  lives,  you  shall  keep 
strictly  aloof  from  the  maiden,  not  even  taking  the  liberty  of  a 
kiss.  Don't  you  see  why  ?  She  has  been  religiously  brought 
up.  She  is  pure,  with  affections  disengaged.  Would  it  be  for 
your  future  interests  as  a  husband  to  undo  all  that  has  been 
done  for  her  moral  education  ?  Surely  no !  You  mean  to 
make  her  your  wife  ;  and  the  w^ife  of  Carbeny  Ratcliff  must 
be  intemerate  ! " 

"  Right !  right  !  A  thousand  times  right ! "  exclaimed  the 
debauchee,  his  pride  getting  the  ascendency. 

"  For  the  present,  then,"  continued  the  quadroon,  "  you,  a 
maiTied  man,  must  hardly  look  on  her.  Consent  to  this,  and 
I  '11  take  the  whole  trouble  of  the  affair  off  your  hands.  I  '11 
bring  the  girl  here,  and  so  mould  her  that  she  will  be  prepared 
to  be  your  lawful  wife  as  soon  as  decency  may  permit." 

Ratcliff  rose  from  the  table,  and  paced  the  floor.  Under 
Josephine's  w^ay  of  presenting  the  subject,  what  had  seemed 
rather  an  embaiTassing  job  began  to  assume  a  new  and  attrac- 
tive aspect.  How  well-judged  the  whole  arrangement !  The 
idea  of  elevating  Clara  to  the  exalted  position  of  successor  to 
the  present  Mi-s.  Ratcliff  was  fast  becoming  more  and  more  in- 
viting to  his  contemplation.  Wealth  in  a  wife  would  be  of  no 
account.  He  would  have  enough  of  liis  ow^n.  Family  rank  was 
desirable  ;  but  did  not  the  girl  give  every  sign  of  high  blood  ? 
It  would  not  be  surprising  if,  in  fact,  she  were  of  a  stock  almost 
equal  to  his  own  in  gentility.  Besides,  would  not  he,  a  Ratcliff, 
cany,  lodged  in  his  own  person,  sufficient  dignity  of  pedigree 
to  cover  the  genealogical  shortcomings  of  a  wife  ? 


A   FEMININE   VAN   AMIiURGH.  299 

The  fact  that  Onslow  and  Kenrick  admired  her  did  much  to 
enhance  the  girl's  value  in  his  eyes  ;  and  he  could  readily  see 
how  it  would  be  for  Madame  Volney's  interests,  since  she  knew 
he  meant  to  marry  again,  to  have  the  training,  to  a  certain 
extent,  of  his  future  wife,  and  put  her  under  a  seeming  obliga- 
tion. And  so  the  quadroon's  protestations  that  she  had  con- 
quered all  jealousy  on  the  subject  seemed  to  him  the  most 
natural  thing  in  the  world. 

"  Well,  Josy,"  said  he,  after  a  silence  of  some  minutes,  "  I 
accept  your  condition  ;  I  give  the  promise  you  demand." 

"  Honor  bright  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  you  '11  have  me  close  under  your  eyes.  I  commit  the 
girl  entirely  to  your  keeping.  I  will  myself  go  at  once  and  see 
Esha,  and  send  her  to  you  here.  I  '11  also  see  Tremaine,  and 
shut  up  his  mouth  with  a  plug  that  will  be  effectual.  The  fel- 
low owes  me  money.  Then  you  can  take  Esha  in  the  carriage, 
and  go  and  put  your  plan  in  execution." 

"  Good !  You  've  decided  wisely,  Carberry.  Shall  I  order 
the  cai-riage  for  you  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  '11  send  it  back  to  you  with  Esha,  and  then  myself 
go  on  foot  to  the  St.  Charles  to  see  Tremaine." 

Ratchff  passed  out  of  the  breakfast-room,  and  the  quadroon 
went  to  the  hat-closet  in  the  hall,  and  removed  the  straw  hat 
with  a  black  ribbon  on  it,  leaving  the  one  distinguished  by  a 
green  band.     She  then  rang  and  ordered  the  carriage. 


300  PECULIAR. 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

ONE  OF  THE  INSTITUTIONS. 

"  Small  serrice  is  true  service  while  it  lasts  ; 
•  Of  friends,  however  humble,  scorn  not  one."  —  Woj  dsworth. 

ON  being  bought  at  the  auction-block  by  Ratcliff,  and  intro- 
duced into  his  household,  Josephine  Volnej,  the  quad- 
roon, had  devoted  herself  to  the  health  of  his  wife  from  purely 
selfish  motives.  But  in  natures  not  radically  perverse,  benefi- 
cence cannot  long  be  divorced  from  benevolence.  Josephine 
believed  her  interests  lay  in  preventing  as  long  as  possible  a 
second  marriage :  hence,  at  first,  her  sedulous  care  of  the 
invalid  wife. 

Those  who  know  anything  of  society  in  the  Slave  States  are 
well  aware  that  concubinage  (one  of  the  institutions  of  the  in- 
stitution) is  there,  in  many  conspicuous  instances,  as  patiently 
acquiesced  in  by  wives  as  polygamy  is  in  Utah.  Mrs.  Ratcliff 
had,  at  first,  almost  adored  her  husband.  Very  unattractive, 
personally,  she  had  yet  an  affectionate  nature,  and  one  of  her 
most  marked  traits  was  gratitude  for  kindness.  Soon  Ratcliff 
di'opped  the  mask  by  which  he  had  won  her ;  and  she,  instead 
of  lamenting  over  her  mistake,  accepted  as  a  necessaiy  evil 
the  fact  of  his  relations  to  the  handsome  slave.  The  latter 
attempted  no  deception,  but  conducted  herself  as  discreetly  as 
any  woman,  so  educated,  could  have  done,  under  such  compul- 
sory circumstances. 

jNIrs.  Ratcliff  was  soon  touched  by  Josephine's  obvious  solici- 
tude to  minister  to  her  happiness  and  health.  The  slave-girl's 
childlike  frankness  begot  frankness  on  the  part  of  the  wife. 
Seei%  that  their  interests  were  identical,  each  was  gradually 
drawn  to  the  other,  till  a  sincere  and  tender  attachment  was 
the  result.  The  wife  was  made  aware  of  her  husband's  calcu- 
lations in  regard  to  a  second  marriage  ;  and  Josephine  found  in 
that  wife  a  faithful  and  crafty  ally,  too  deep,  with  all  her  shal- 
lowness, to  be  fathomed  by  the  husband. 


ONE   OF   THE   INSTITUTIONS.  301 

No  sooner  had  Ratcliff  quitted  the  house,  on  the  morning  of 
the  breakfast  described,  than  Josephine  hurried  to  the  invahd's 
room.  A  poor  diminutive  Creole  lady,  with  wrinkled  skin, 
darker  even  than  the  quadroon's,  and  with  one  shoulder  higher 
than  the  other,  she  sat,  with  a  white  crape-shawl  wrapped 
round  her,  in  a  large  arm-chair.  Her  face,  as  Josephine  en- 
tered, lighted  up  with  a  smile  of  welcome  that  for  a  moment 
seemed  to  transfigure  even  those  withered  and  pain-stricken 
features.  In  half  an  hour  Josephine  had  put  her  in  possession 
of  all  the  developments  of  the  last  two  days,  and  of  her  own 
plans  for  controlling  the  movements  of  Ratcliff  in  regard  to  the 
young  white  woman  supposed  to  be  his  slave. 

With  absorbed  interest  the  invalid  listened  to  the  details,  and 
approved  warmly  of  what  Josephine  had  planned.  Her  femi- 
nine curiosity  was  pleased  with  the  idea  of  having,  in  her  own 
house  and  under  her  own  eye,  this  young  person  whom  Ratcliff 
had  presumed  to  think  of  as  a  second  wife  ;  while  the  thought 
of  baffling  him  in  his  selfish  schemes  sent  a  shock  of  pleasure 
to  her  heart.  Furthermore,  the  excitement  seemed  to  brace 
up  her  frame  anew,  and  to  ruffle  into  breezy  action  the  torpid 
tide  of  her  monotonous  existence. 

Esha  was  amiounced  and  introduced.  A  new  and  refreshing 
incident  for  the  invalid !  And  now,  if  Esha  had  needed  any 
further  confirmation  of  the  quadroon's  story,  it  was  amply 
afforded.  Josephine's  project  for  the  present  security  of  Rat- 
cliff's  white  slave  was  discussed  and  approved. 

The  carriage  was  waiting  at  the  door.  "  Go  now,"  said  Mrs. 
Ratcliff,  "  and  be  sure  you  bring  the  girl  right  up  to  see  me." 

In  less  than  twenty  minutes  afterwards,  as  Clara,  lonely  and 
anxious,  sat  in  Tremaine's  drawing-room,  a  servant  entered  and 
told  her  that  a  colored  woman  was  in  Number  13,  waiting  to 
see  her.  Supposing  it  could  be  no  other  than  Esha,  she  fol- 
lowed the  servant  to  the  room,  and,  on  entering,  recoiled  at  sight 
of  a  stranger.  For  a  moment  the  quadroon  was  so  absorbed 
in  scanning  the  girl's  whole  personal  outline,  that  there  was 
silence  on  both  sides. 

"  What 's  wanting  ?  "  asked  Clara,  half  dreading  some  trick. 

"  Please  close  the  door,  and  I  '11  tell  you,"  was  the  reply. 
Clara  did  as  she  was  requested.  "  Have  you  any  objections  to 
locking  the  door  ?  "  continued  the  quadroon. 


302  PECULIAR. 

"  None  whatever,"  replied  Clara,  and  she  locked  it. 

"  You  fear  I  may  be  here  as  an  agent  of  ]Mi'.  Ratcliff,"  said 
Josephine. 

"  Ah !  am  I  betrayed  ? "  cried  Clai*a,  instinctively  carrying 
her  hand  to  her  bosom,  where  lay  the  weapon  she  had  bought. 
The  quadroon  noticed  the  gesture,  and  smiled.  "  Sit  down," 
she  said,  "  and  do  not  consider  me  an  enemy  until  I  have 
proved  myself  such.  Listen  to  what  I  have  to  propose." 
Clara  took  a  seat  where  she  could  be  within  reach  of  tlie  door, 
and  then  pointed  to  the  sofa. 

"  Yes,  I  will  sit  here,"  said  the  quadroon,  complying  with  the 
tacit  invitation.  "  Now,  listen,  dear  young  lady,  to  a  proposi- 
tion I  am  authorized  to  make.  'Mx.  Ratcliff  will  very  soon  be 
a  widower.  His  wife  cannot  sui'vive  three  months.  He  has 
seen  you,  and  likes  you.  He  is  ^N-illing  to  lift  y«u  from  slavery 
to  freedom,  —  from  poverty  to  wealth,  —  from  obscurity  to 
grandeur,  —  on  one  very  easy  condition ;  this,  namely :  that,  as 
soon  after  his  wife's  death  as  propriety  will  allow,  you  will 
yourself  become  Mrs.  Ratcliff." 

"  Never ! "  exclaimed  Clara,  the  blood  flaming  up  like  red 
auroras  over  neck,  face,  and  brow. 

"  But  consider,  my  dear.  You  will,  in  the  first  place,  be 
forthwith  treated  with  all  the  respect  and  consideration  due  to 
Mi\  Ratcliff's  future  bride.  As  soon  as  he  has  you  secure  as 
his  wife,  he  will  emancipate  you,  — :  make  you  a  free  woman. 
Think  of  that !  ISIi*.  Ratcliff  is  supposed  to  be  worth  at  least 
five  millions.  You  will  at  once  have  such  a  purse  as  no  other 
young  woman  in  the  city  can  boast.  Now  why  not  be  reasona- 
ble ?     Why  not  say  yes  to  the  proposition  ?  " 

"  Never !  never  I "  cried  Clara,  carrying  her  hand  again  to 
her  breast  with  a  gesture  she  thought  significant  only  to  herself. 

Josephine  rose  and  felt  of  the  bosom  of  Clara's  dress  till  she 
distinguished  the  weapon  of  which  Esha  had  spoken.  Then  a 
smile,  so  sincere  as  to  forbid  suspicion,  broke  over  the  quad- 
roon's face,  and  she  exclaimed  :  "  Let  me  kiss  you  !  Let  mo 
hug  you  ! "  And  having  given  vent  to  her  satisfaction  in  an 
embrace,  she  unlocked  the  door,  and  there  stood  Esha. 

"  What  does  it  all  mean,  Esha  ?  "  asked  Clara,  bewildered. 

"  It  mean,  darlin',  dat  Massa  Ratcliff  hab  tracked  you  to  dis 


ONE   OF   THE   INSTITUTIONS. 


303 


yere  place,  an'  we  two  women  mean  to  pull  de  wool  ober  his 
eyes,  so  he  can't  do  yer  no  hai-m  no  how.  You  jes  do  what 
we  want  yer  to,  and  we  'U  bodder  him  so  he  sha'n't  know  his 
head  's  his  own." 

Josephine  then  communicated  all  the  facts  that  had  come 
to  her  knowledge  in  regard  to  RatclifF's  pursuit  of  Clara,  to- 
gether  with  her  own  conversation  with  him  that  morning,  and 
the  plan  she  had  contrived  for  his  discomfiture.  *'  As  soon  " 
she  said,  «as  such  an  opportunity  offers  that  I  can  be  sure  you 
can  be  put  beyond  his  reach,  I  will  supply  you  with  money, 
and  help  you  to  escape." 

Truth  beamed  from  her  looks,  and  made  itself  musical  in  her 
tones,  and  Clara  gratefully  pressed  her  hand. 
"  And  shall  I  have  Esha  with  me  ?  "  she  asked. 
"Yes;  and  Mrs.  Ratcliff,  though  an  invalid, 'wiU  also  be- 
friend  you.     'T  will  be  strange  indeed  if  we  four  women  can't 
defeat  one  man." 

"  But  I  shall  have  all  the  slave-hunters  in  the  Confederacy 
after  me  if  I  try  to  get  away." 

"  Do  not  fear.  We  have  golden  keys  that  open  many  doors 
of  escape."  *^ 

Clara  did  not  hesitate.  She  had  faith  in  Esha's  quickness 
as  well  as  m  her  own,  to  detect  insincerity.  And  so  she  was 
persuaded  that  her  safest  present  course  would  be  to  go  boldly 
into  the  house  of  the  very  man  she  had  most  cause  to  dread  ' 

It  was  agreed  that  the  three  should  leave  together  at  once. 
Clara  went  to  her  sleeping-room,  and  there,  encountering  the 
chambermaid,  made  her  a  present  of  two  dollars,  and  sent  her 
off.     Laura  was  absent  at  the  dressmaker's. 

"I  would  like,"  said  Clara,  "to  find  out  at  the  bar  what 
charge  has  been  made  for  my  stay  here,  and  pay  it." 
"  Let  me  do  it  for  you,"  suggested  the  quadroon. 
"If  you  would  be  so  kind!"  repHed   Clara.     "Here  are 
fifteen  dollars.     I  don't  tliink  it  can  come  to  more  than  that." 

Without  taking  the  money,  Josephine  left  the  room.  In  five 
minutes  she  returned  with  a  receipted  biU,  made  out  agamst 
"Miss  Tremaine's  friend."  This  receipt  Clara  enclosed,  to- 
gether  with  a  five-dollar  gold-piece,  in  a  letter  to  Laura,  con- 
taming  these  words  :  — 


304  PECULIAR. 

♦ 
"  I  thank  you  for  all  the  hospitality  I  have  received  at  your 
hands.  Enclosed  you  will  find  my  hotel  bill  receipted,  also 
five  dollars  for  the  use  of  such  dresses  as  I  have  worn.  With 
best  wishes  for  your  mother's  restoration  to  health  and  for  your 
own  welfare,  I  bid  you  good  by.  P.  B." 

The  three  women  now  passed  through  a  side  entrance  to  the 
street  where  the  carriage  was  in  waiting ;  and  before  half  an 
hour  had  elapsed,  Clara  was  established  in  the  blue  room  of  the 
house  in  Lafayette  Square,  —  the  invalid  lady  had  seen  her 
and  approved,  —  and  Esha,  like  a  faithful  hoimd,  was  follow- 
ing her  steps,  keeping  watch,  as  Ratcliflf  had  fUrected,  though 
for  other  reasons  than  he  had  imagined. 

Hardly  had  Clara  left  the  hotel,  before  Vance  called.  He 
had  come,  fully  resolved  to  wring  from  her,  if  possible,  the 
secret  of  her  trouble.  Much  to  his  disappointment,  he  learned 
she  had  gone  and  would  not  return.  He  called  a  second  time, 
and  saw  Miss  Tremaine.  That  young  lady,  warned  and  threat- 
ened by  her  father,  now  displayed  such  a  ready  and  facile  gift 
for  lying,  as  would  have  highly  distinguished  her  in  diplomacy. 

"  Only  think  of  it,  'Mr.  Vance,"  said  the  intrepid  Laura,  "  it 
turns  out  that  Miss  Brown  has  been  having  a  love  affair  with 
one  of  her  father's  clerks,  a  low-born  Yankee.  He  followed 
her  to  New  Orleans,  —  managed  to  send  a  letter  to  her  at  Mrs. 
Gentry's,  —  Clara  went  forth  to  find  him,  but,  failing  in  her 
seai'ch,  came  to  claim  hospitality  of  me.  This  morning  her 
father  —  a  very  decent  man  he  seems  to  be  —  arrived  from 
Mobile  and  took  her,  fortunately  before  she  had  been  able  to 
meet  her  lover." 

The  story  was  plausible.  Vance,  however,  looked  the  naiTa- 
tor  sharply  and  searchingly  in  the  face.  She  met  his  glance 
with  an  expression  beaming  with  innocence  and  candor.  It 
was  irresistible.  The  strong  man  surrendered  aU  suspicion, 
and  gave  in  "beat." 


A  DOUBLE   VICTOIIY.  305 

CHAPTEE    XXXII. 

A   DOUBLE   VICTORY. 

"  Whence  it  is  manifest  that  the  soul,  speaking  in  a  natural  sense,  loseth  nothing  by 
Death,  but  is  a  very  considerable  gainer  thereby.  For  she  does  not  only  possess  as  much 
body  as  before,  with  as  full  and  solid  dimensions,  but  has  that  accession  cast  in,  of  having 
this  body  more  invigorated  with  life  and  motion  than  it  was  formerly." —  Henry  More, 
A.  D.  1659. 

"  No,  sure,  't  is  ever  youth  there  !  Time  and  Death 
Follow  our  flesh  no  more  ;  and  that  forced  opinion, 
That  spirits  have  no  sexes,  I  believe  not.  ♦ 

There  must  be  love,  —  there  is  love  !  " 

Beaumont  and  Fletcher. 

"  T   SHALL  be  jealous  of  this  little  lady  if  you  go  on  at  this 
i   rate,"  said  Madame  Volney  to  Mrs.  Ratcliflf,  a  week  after 
Clai'a  had  been  established  in  the  house. 

"  Never  fear  that  I  shall  love  you  less,  my  dear  Josephine," 
replied  the  invaUd.  Then,  pointing  to  her  heart,  she  added  : 
"  I  've  a  place  here  big  enough  for  both  of  you.  I  only  wish 
'twere  in  better  repair." 

"  Have  you  had  those  shai-p  throbbings  to-day  ?  " 
"Not  badly.  You  warn  me  against  excitement.  I  some- 
times think  I'm  better  under  it.  Certainly  I've  improved 
since  Esha  and  Darling  have  been  here.  What  should  I  do 
now  without  Darling  to  play  and  read  to  me  ?  What  a  touch 
slie  has  !  And  what  a  voice  !  And  then  her  selection  of  music 
and  of  books  is  so  good.  By  the  way,  she  promised  to  trans- 
late a  story  for  me  from  the  German.  I  wonder  if  she  has  it 
finisiied.     Go  ask  her." 

The  answer  was  brought  by  Clara  herself,  and  Josephine  left 
the  two  together.  Yes,  Clara  had  written  out  the  story.  It 
was  called  Zii  Spat,  or  "  Too  Late,"  and  was  by  an  anony- 
mous author.  Clara  read  aloud  from  it.  She  had  read  about 
ten  minutes,  when  the  following  passage  occurred :  — 

"  Selfish  and  superstitious,  the  Baroness  put  out  of  her  mind 
the  irk>ome  thought  of  making  her  will ;  but  now,  struck 
speechless  by  disease,  mid  paralyzed  in  her  hands,  she  was 

T 


306  PECULIAR. 

impotent  to  communicate  her  wishes.  Her  agonized  effort  to 
say  something  in  her  last  moments  undoubtedly  related  to  a  will. 
But  she  died  intestate,  and  all  her  large  estate  })assed  into  the 
hands  of  a  comparative  stranger.  And  thus  the  humble  friends 
whose  kindness  had  saved  and  prolonged  lier  life  were  left  to 
struggle  with  the  world  lor  a  meagre  support.  If  in  the  new 
condition  to  which  she  had  passed  through  death  she  could 
look  back  on  her  selfishness  and  its  consequences,  what  poig- 
nant regrets  must  have  been  hers  !  " 

'•  Read  that  passage  again,"  said  Mrs.  Ratcliff;  adding,  after 
Clara  had  complied,  "  You  need  n't  read  any  more  now." 

That  evening  the  wife  summoned  the  husband  to  an  inter- 
view. Somewhat  surprised  at  the  unusual  command,  Ratcliff 
made  his  appearance  and  took  a  seat  at  her  side.  His  manner 
was  that  of  a  man  who  thinks  no  woman  can  resist  liim,  and 
that  his  transparent  cajoleries  are  the  proper  pabulum  for  her 
weak  intellect,  —  poor  thing  ! 

"  Well,  my  peerless  one,  what  is  it  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  ^vish  to  talk  with  you,  Ratcliff,  about  this  white  slave  of 
yours.     What  do  you  think  of  her?" 

"  Think  of  her  ?  Nothing !  I  've  given  no  thought  to  the 
subject.     I've  hardly  looked  at  her." 

"  Lie  Number  l,"  thought  the  invalid,  looking  him  in  the 
face,  but  betraying  no  distrust  in  her  expression. 

The  truth  was,  that  Ratcliff,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  was 
under  the  power  of  a  sentiment  which,  if  not  love,  was  all  that 
there  was  in  liis  nature  akin  to  it.  Even  at  political  meetings 
his  thoughts  would  stray  from  the  public  business,  from  the  ful- 
minations  of  "  last-ditch  "  orators  and  curb-stone  generals,  and 
revert  to  that  youthful  and  enchanting  figure.  True,  Josephine 
rigidly  exacted  conformity  to  the  conditions  that  kept  him  aloof 
from  all  communication  with  the  girl.  But  Ratcliff,  through 
the  window-blinds,  would  now  and  then  see  her,  in  the  pride 
of  youth  and  beauty,  walking  with  Esha  in  the  garden.  He 
would  hear  her  songs,  too.  And  once,  —  when  he  thought  no 
one  knew  it,  —  though  the  quadroon  had  her  eye  on  him,  — 
he  overheard  Clara's  conversation.  "  She  has  mind  as  vrell 
as  beauty,"  thought  he. 

And  that  brilliant  and  dainty  creature  was  /as,  —  his  !     He 


A  DOUBLE  VICTORY.  307 

could,  if  he  chose,  marry  her  to  the  blackest  of  his  slaves.  Of 
course  he  could!  There  was  no  indignity  he  could  not  put 
upon  her,  under  the  plea  of  upholding  his  rights  as  a  master. 
Had  he  not  once  proved  it  in  another  case,  on  his  own  planta- 
tion ?  And  who  had  ever  dared  raise  a  voice  against  the  just 
assertion  of  his  rights  ?  Truly,  any  such  rash  malcontents, 
opening  their  lipS,  would  have  been  in  danger  of  being  ducked 
as  Abolitionists ! 

Patience !  Yes,  Josephine  was  right  in  her  scheme  of  keep- 
ing the  young  girl  secluded  from  his  too  fascinating  society. 
Not  a  hint  must  the  maiden  have  of  the  favor  with  which  he 
regarded  her,  —  not  an  intimation,  until  the  present  Mrs.  Rat- 
cliff  should  considerately  "  step  out."  Then  —  Well,  what 
then  ?  Why,  then  an  end  to  hopes  deferred  and  desires  unful- 
filled !  Then  an  immediate  private  marriage,  to  be  followed 
by  a  public  one,  after  a  decent  interval. 

Every  secret  device  and  cherished  anticipation,  meanwhile, 
of  that  imperious  nature  was  understood  and  analyzed  by  the 
quadroon.  She  felt  a  vindictive  satisfaction  in  seeing  him  riot 
in  calculations  which  she  would  task  her  best  energies  to  baffle. 
Esha's  stories  of  his  conduct  to  Estelle  had  withered  the  last 
bloom  of  affection  which  Josephine's  heart  had  cherished  to- 
wards him. 

"I'm  glad  you're  so  indifferent  to  this  white  slave,"  said 
Mrs.  Ratcliff  to  her  husband. 

"  And  why  should  you  be  glad,  my  pet  ?  " 

"  Because,  Ratcliff,  I  want  you  to  give  her  to  me." 

Staggered  by  the  suddenness  of  the  request,  and  puzzled  for 
an  answer,  he  replied :  "  But  she  may  prove  a  very  valuable 
piece  of  property.  There's  many  a  man  who  would  pay  ten 
thousand  dollars  for  her,  two  or  three  years  hence." 

"  Well,  if  you  don't  want  to  give  her,  then  sell  her  to  me. 
I'll  pay  you  twenty  thousand  dollars  for  her." 

"  You  shall  have  her  for  nothing,  my  dear,"  said  Ratcliff, 
after  reflecting  that  the  slave  would  still  be  virtually  his,  inas- 
much as  no  conveyance  of  her  could  be  made  by  his  wife  with- 
out his  consent. 

Detecting  the  trap,  the  wife  at  once  replied :  "  Thank  you, 
dear  husband.  This  generosity  is  so  like  you !  Can  she  be 
freed?" 


308  PECULIAR. 

"  No.  There  are  recent  State  laws  against  emancipation. 
It  was  found  there  were  too  many  weak-minded  persons,  who, 
in  their  last  moments,  beginning  to  have  scruples  about  slave- 
holding,  would  think  to  purchase  heaven  by  emancipating  their 
slaves.  The  example  was  bad,  and  productive  of  discontent 
among  those  left  in  bondage." 

"  Well,  then,  Ratcliff,  there  's  one  little  form  you  must  con- 
sent to.     The  title-deed  must  be  vested  in  Mr.  AVinslow." 

Ratcliff  started  as  if  recoiling  from  a  pitfall.  The  remark 
brought  home  to  his  mind  the  disagreeable  consideration  that 
there  was  nearly  half  a  million  of  dollars  which  ought  to  come 
to  his  wife,  but  Avhich  was  absolutely  in  the  keeping  and  uivier 
the  control  of  Simon  Winslow.  It  happened  in  this  wise : 
The  father  of  Mrs.  Ratcliff,  old  Kittler,  not  having  that  entire 
faith  in  his  son-in-law  which  so  distinguished  a  member  of  the 
chivalry  as  the  South  Carolinian  ought  to  have  commanded, 
gave  into  the  hands  of  Winslow  a  large  sum  of  money,  relying 
solely  upon  his  honor  to  use  it  in  loco  parentis  for  the  benefit 
of  the  lady.  But  there  were  no  legal  restrictions  imposed 
upon  Simon  as  to  the  disposition  of  the  property,  and  if  he  had 
chosen  to  give  or  throw  it  away,  or  keep  it  himself,  he  might 
have  done  it  with  impunity. 

Winslow  acted  much  as  he  would  have  done  if  Mrs.  Ratcliff 
had  been  his  own  daughter.  He  invested  the  money  solely  for 
her  ultimate  benefit  and  disposal,  seeing  that  her  husband  al- 
ready had  millions  which  she  had  brought  him.  Ratcliff,  how- 
ever, regarded  as  virtually  his  the  money  in  Winslow's  hands, 
and  had  several  angiy  discussions  with  him  on  the  subject. 
But  Simon  was  impracticable.  The  only  concession  he  would 
make  was  to  say,  that,  in  the  event  of  Mrs.  Ratcliff 's  death,  he 
should  respect  any  requests  she  might  have  made.  There  had 
consequently  been  an  informal  wUl,  if  ivill  it  could  be  called, 
made  by  her  a  year  before,  in  Ratcliff 's  favor. 

Wanting  money  now  to  carry  out  his  speculations  in  slaves, 
Ratcliff  had  again  applied  to  Winslow  for  this  half  a  million,  — 
had  tried  wheedlings  and  threats,  both  in  vain.  He  had  even 
threatened  to  denomice  Simon  before  the  Committee  of  Safety, 
—  to  denounce  him  as  a  "  damned  Yankee  and  Abolitionist.'* 
To  which  Simon  had  replied  by  taking  a  pinch  of  snuff. 


A   DOUBLE  VICTORY.  309 

Simon,  though  born  somewhere  in  the  vicinity  of  Plymouth 
Rock,  was  one  of  the  oldest  residents  of  New  Orleans.  He 
had  helped  General  Jackson  beat  off  Packenham.  He  had 
stood  by  him  in  his  rough  handling  of  the  habeas  coiyus  act. 
Simon  had  been  a  slaveholder,  though  rather  as  an  experiment 
than  for  profit;  for,  finding  that  the  State  Legislature  were 
going  to  pass  a  law  against  emancipation,  he  took  time  by  the 
forelock,  and  not  only  made  all  his  slaves  free,  but  placed  them 
where  they  could  earn  their  living. 

The  invalid  wife's  proposal  to  vest  the  title  to  the  white  slave 
in  Winslow  caused  in  Ratcliff  a  visible  embarrassment. 

"  You  know,  my  dear,"  he  replied,  "  I  would  do  anything  for 
your  gratification  ;  ])ut  there  are  particular  reasons  why  —  " 

"  Why  what,  husband  .?  " 

"  Give  me  a  few  days  to  think  the  matter  over.  We  '11  talk 
of  it  when  I  have  n't  so  much  on  my  mind.  Meanwhile  I  '11 
tell  you  what  I  will  consent  to  :  Josephine  shall  be  yqurs  to  do 
with  just  as  you  please." 

"  Come,  that 's  something,"  said  the  wife.  "  What  I  ask,  then, 
is,  that  you  convey  Josephine  to  Mr.  Winslow  to  hold  in  trust 
for  me.     Will  you  do  this  the  first  thing  in  the  morning  ?  " 

"  I  certainly  will,"  repUed  Ratcliff,  flattering  himself  that  his 
ready  compliance  with  one  of  his  wife's  morbid  whims  would 
more  than  content  her  for  his  evasion  of  the  other. 

"  Well,  then,  good  night,"  said  she,  pointing  to  the  door. 

She  submitted,  with  a  slight  shudder,  imperceptible  to  Rat- 
cliff, to  be  kissed  by  him,  and  he  went  down-stairs.  Josephine 
issued  from  behind  a  screen  whither  the  wife  had  beckoned  her 
to  go  on  his  first  coming  in.  If  there  had  been  any  remnant 
of  affection  for  him  in  the  quadroon's  heart,  she  was  well  cured 
of  it  by  what  she  had  heard. 

The  invalid  called  for  writing  materials,  and  penned  a  note. 
"  Take  this,  Josephine,"  she  said,  "  early  to-morrow  to  Mr. 
Winslow.  In  it  I  simply  tell  him  of  Ratcliff's  proposition  in 
regard  to  yourself,  and  ask  him,  the  moment  that  affair  is 
attended  to,  to  come  and  see  me." 

The  clock  was  striking  twelve  the  next  day  when  Mr. 
Winslow  came,  and  Josephine  ushered  him  into  the  invalid's 
presence. 


310  PECULIAR. 

"  You  may  leave  us  alone  for  a  while,  Josephine,"  she  said. 

As  soon  as  the  quadroon  had  gone  out  and  shut  the  door, 
the  invalid  motioned  to  Winslow  to  draw  near.  He  was  up- 
wards of  seventy,  tall  and  erect,  with  venerable  gray  locks, 
and  an  expression  of  face  at  once  brisk  and  gentle,  benevolent 
and  keen. 

"  What 's  the  state  of  the  property  you  still  hold  for  me,  Mr 
Winslow  ?  " 

"  It  is  half  invested  in  real  estate  in  Northern  cities,  and 
half  in  special  deposits  of  gold  in  Northern  banks." 

"  Indeed !  Then  you  must  have  sent  it  North  long  before 
these  troubles  began." 

"  Yes,  more  than  four  yeai*s  ago,  —  soon  after  the  Nashville 
Convention." 

"  What 's  the  amount  in  your  hands  ?  " 

"  Half  a  million ;  probably  it  will  be  seven  hundred  thou- 
sand, if  gold  should  rise,  as  I  think  it  will." 

"  And  how  much,  Mr.  Winslow,  of  the  property,  my  father 
left  me  has  gone  to  Mr.  Ratcliff  ?  " 

"  More  than  three  millions." 

"  Very  well.  I  wish  to  revoke  all  previous  requests  I  may 
have  made  as  to  the  disposition  of  the  property  in  your  hands. 
Now  take  your  pen  and  write  as  I  shall  dictate." 

"  Let  me  first  explain,  Mrs.  Ratcliff,  that  any  conveyance  of 
pei'sonalty  you  might  make  would  be  null  without  your  hus- 
band's consent.  But  in  this  case  forms  are  of  no  account,  and 
even  witnesses  are  unnecessary.  Everything  is  left  to  my 
individual  honor  and  discretion." 

"  I  'm  aware  of  that,  Mr.  Winslow.  It  is  not  so  much  a 
will  as  a  series  of  requests  I  've  to  make." 

"  I  see  you  understand  it,  madam.  The  memoranda  you 
give  me  I  will  embody  in  the  form  of  a  will  of  my  own. 
Proceed ! " 

"  Put  down,"  said  the  invalid,  "  a  hundred  thousand  for  the 
Orphan  Asylum." 

'•  Excellent ;  but  as  the  Secessionists  are  using  that  sacred 
fund  for  war  purposes,  I  shall  take  the  liberty  of  withholding 
the  bequest  for  the  present.     Go  on." 

"  A  hundred  thousand  to  the  Lying-in  Hospital." 


A   DOUBLE   VICTORY.  311 

"  Nothing  could  be  more  proper.     Proceed." 
"A  hundred  thousand  to  the  fund  for  the  Sisters  of  Charity." 
"  Ah !  those  dear  sisters !    Bless  you  for  rememberin^r  them 
madam."  °  ' 

"  A  hundred  thousand  to  be  distributed  in  sums  of  five  tliou- 
sand  severally  to  the  persons  whose  names  I  have  liere  written 
down." 

She  handed  him  a  sheet  of  paper  containing  the  names,  and 
ne  transcribed  them  carefully. 

"And  now,"  resumed  the  invalid,  "the  remainder  of  the 
fund  in  your  possession  I  wish  paid  over,  when  you  can  safely 
do  It,  one  half  to  the  slave  Josephine,  the  other  half  to  the  white 
slave,  Ellen  Murray,  of  whom  Josephine  will  tell  you,  and 
whom  you  must  rescue  from  slavery.  Both  must  be  free  be- 
fore the  money  can  be  of  any  service  to  them." 

"  Of  course.  Their  owner  could  at  once  appropriate  any 
sum  you  might  leave  to  them,  even  though  it  were  a  milHon 
of  dollars." 

1^'  You  have  now  heard  all  I  have  to  say,  Mr.  Winslow." 
"Then,  madam,  you  wiU  please  write  under  these  memo- 
randa with  your  own  hand  something  to  this  effect,  and  sign 
your  name,  with  date,  place,  et  cetera:  '  This  I  declare  to  be 
my  own  spontaneous,  imhiassed  request  to  Mr.  Winslow,  to  dis^ 
pose  of  the  property  in  his  possession,  in  the  manner  herein^ 
above  stated:  The  autograph  will  have  no  legal  force,  but  it 
may  serve  to  satisfy  your  husband." 

The  lady  wrote,  and  handed  back  the  paper. 
"  Good  !  »  said  Winslow.     «  Before  taking  another  meal,  I 
will  draw  up  and  sign  a  will  by  which  your  requests  can  be 
made  effectual." 

"  Your  hand,  Mr.  Winslow  !  My  father  trusted  you  as  he 
did  no  other  man,  and  I  thank  you  for  your  loyalty  to  what  you 
knew  to  be  his  wishes."  ^ 

"The  task  he  put  upon  me  has  been  a  very  simple   one, 

madam.     Good  by.     We  shaU  soon  meet  again,  I  hope." 

Good  b*  ""^  '^^^  ^^  "^"'^^  ^^^  ""^  "^^  heail-complaint   then. 

Hardly  had  Winslow  left  the  house  than  Ratcliff  drove  up 

and  entered.    He  was  in  a  jubilant  mood.    News  had  just  been 


312  PKCULIAR. 

received  of  the  Confederate  victory  at  Bull  Run.  He  knocked 
at  his  wife's  door.  "  Come  in  ! "  He  entered.  Josephine  and 
Clara  were  present,  trying  to  soothe  the  invalid.  One  was 
bathing  her  forehead  with  eau  de  Cologne;  the  other  was 
kneeling,  and  rubbing  her  feet.  She  had  been  telling  them 
what  she  had  done.  She  liad  kissed  first  one  and  then  the 
other,  lavisliing  on  them  profuse  tokens  of  affection.  Her  eyes 
gleamed  with  an  unnatural  brightness,  and  her  cheeks  were 
flushed  with  tlie  glow  of  a  great  excitement. 

As  RatclifFcame  in  she  rose,  and,  standing  between  Josephine 
and  Clara,  put  an  arm  round  the  shoulder  of  each,  and  looked 
her  husband  steadily  in  the  face.  Her  expression  was  that  of 
one  who  cannot  find  words  adequate  to  the  utterance  of  some 
absorbing  emotion.  The  look  was  compounded  at  once  of  defi- 
ance and  of  pity.  Her  lips  moved,  but  no  articulation  followed. 
Then  suddenly,  with  a  gasped  "  Ah ! "  she  convulsively  bowed 
her  body  like  a  tree  smitten  by  the  tornado.  The  pain,  if 
sliarp,  was  but  for  a  moment. 

The  motion  was  her  last.  She  sank  into  the  faithful  arms 
that  encircled  her.  The  one  attenuated  chord  that  bound  her 
to  the  mortal  life  had  been  snapped. 

Ratcliff  started  forward,  and  satisfied  himself  that  his  wife 
was  really  dead.     Then  he  looked  up  at  Clara. 

She  caught  the  expression  of  his  countenance,  and  instinct- 
ively comprehended  it,  even  as  the  little  bird  understands  the 
hawk,  or  the  lamb  the  wolf.  Josephine  saw  it  too.  What  a 
triumph  now  to  think  that  she  was  no  longer  his  slave  ! 

But  Clara,  —  wliat  of  Aer?  IMrs.  Ratcliff 's  sudden  death 
seemed  to  shatter  the  last  barrier  between  her  and  danger. 

Ratcliff  did  not  affect  to  conceal  his  satisfaction.  Here  was 
a  double  victory !  The  Federals  and  his  wife  both  disposed 
of  in  one  day !  Youth  and  beauty  within  his  grasp  !  Truly, 
fortune  seemed  to  be  heaping  her  good  things  upon  him.  That 
half  a  million  too,  in  Winslow's  hands,  would  come  very  oppor- 
tunely ;  for  slaves  could  be  bought  cheap,  dog-cheap,  now  that 
croakers  were  predicting  ruin  to  the  institution. 

••  Josephine,"  said  he,  "  I  must  go  at  once  to  see  Winslow, 
the  late  "  —  how  readily  he  seized  on  that  word  !  —  "  the  late 
Mrs.  Ratcliff 's  man  of  business.     I  may  not  be  home  to  dinner. 


A  DOUBLE   VICTORY.  313 

You  'd  better  not  take  out  the  carriage.  The  horses  would  be 
frightened ;  for  the  streets  are  all  in  commotion  with  salvos  for 
our  great  victory.     Good  by  till  I  return." 

Once  more  he  turned  on  Clara  that  look  from  which  she  had 
twice  before  shrunk  dismayed  and  exasperated. 

After  he  had  gone,  "  Help  me  to  escape  at  once ! "  she  ex- 
claimed. 

"  No,"  replied  Josephine.  "  This  is  our  safest  place  for  the 
present.  Tlie  avenues  of  escape  from  the  city  are  all  closed ; 
and  we  should  find  it  difficult  to  go  where  we  would  not  be 
tracked.  The  danger  is  not  immediate.  Do  not  look  so  wild, 
Darling.  I  swear  to  you  that  I  will  protect  you  to  the  last. 
"Whither  thou  goest  I  will  go,  and  where  thou  lodgest  I  will 
lodge." 


14 


314  PECULIAR. 


CHAPTER    XXXIII. 

SATAN  AMUSES  HDISELF 

"  Wc  can  die  ; 
And,  dying  nobly,  though  we  leave  behind  u8 
These  clods  of  flesh,  that  are  too  massy  burdens, 
Our  living  souls  fly  crowned  with  living  conquests." 

Beaumont  and  Fletcher, 

VAXCE  sat  in  his  room  at  the  St.  Charles.  He  seemed 
plunged  in  meditation.  His  fingers  were  playing  ^vith  a 
little  gold  cross  he  wore  round  his  neck ;  a  trinket  made  very 
precious  by  the  dying  kiss  and  pious  faith  of  Estelle.  It  re- 
called to  him  daily  those  memorable  moments  of  their  last 
earthly  parting.  And  she  now  seemed  so  near  to  him,  so  truly 
alive  to  him,  in  all  liis  perplexities,  that  he  would  hardly  have 
been  surprised  to  see  her  suddenly  standing  in  immortal  youth 
by  his  side.  How  could  he,  -while  thus  possessed  w4th  her  en- 
chanting image,  evoke  from  his  heart  any  wanner  sentiment 
than  that  of  friendship  for  any  other  woman  ? 

He  thought  of  the  so-called  Perdita.  He  feared  he  would 
have  to  leave  the  city  without  getting  any  further  light  than 
Miss  Tremaine  had  vouchsafed  on  the  mystery  that  suiTOunded 
that  interesting  young  pei'son.  One  thing,  on  reconsideration, 
puzzled  him  and  excited  his  distrust  in  Laura's  story.  Perdita 
had  pretended  that  the  name  Brown  was  improvised  for  the 
occasion,  —  assumed  while  she  was  convei^sing  with  him. 
Could  she  have  been  deceiving? 

There  were  still  other  reflections  that  brought  anxiety.  He 
had  not  yet  heard  from  Peek.  Could  that  faithful  friend  have 
faUed  in  all  his  inquiries  for  Hyde  ? 

The  immediate  matter  for  consideration,  however,  was  the 
danger  that  began  to  darken  over  Vance's  own  path.  It  had 
been  ascertained  by  leading  Secessionists,  interested  in  provid- 
ing for  the  financial  wants  of  the  Rebellion,  that  Vance  had 
di'awn  more  than  a  hundred  thousand  dollars  of  special  depos- 


SATAN  AMUSES  HIMSELF.  315 

its  of  gold  from  the  banks  since  the  fall  of  Sumter.  The  ques- 
tion was  now  put  to  him  by  the  usurpers,  What  had  been  done 
with  that  money?  He  was  summoned  to  appear  before  the 
authorities  with  an  explanation.  A  committee  would  be  in 
session  that  very  evening  to  hear  his  statement. 

There  was  still  another  subject  to  awaken  his  concern. 
Kenrick  had  been  called  on  to  set  at  rest  certain  unfavorable 
reports,  by  appearing  before  that  same  committee,  and  accept- 
ing a  captaincy  in  the  confederate  ai-my.  Onslow  was  to  be 
presented  with  a  colonel's  commission. 

^  Vance  had  made  preparations  for  the  escape  of  Kenrick  and 
himself.  A  little  steam-tug  called  the  Artful  Dodger,  carrying 
the  Confederate  flag,  lay  in  the  river.  Everybody  supposed 
she  was  a  sort  of  spy  on  United  States  cruisers.  For  two 
days  she  had  lain  there  with  steam  all  up,  ready  to  start  at  a 
moment's  warning.  Her  crew  appeared  to  be  all  ashore,  ex- 
cept the  captain,  mate,  engineer,  cook,  and  two  stewards. 
The  last  three  were  black  men.  The  other  three,  if  they  were 
not  Yankees,  had  caught  some  peculiarities  of  pronunciation 
which  the  schoolmaster  is  vainly  striving  to  extirpate  at  the 
North.  These  men  said  beeyownd  for  bound,  and  neeyow  for 
now. 

While  Vance  was  meditating  on  his  arrangements,  a  card 
was  brought  to  him.     It  bore  the  name  "  Simon  Winslow." 
'"  Show  him  in,"  said  Vance  to  the  servant. 
As  Simon  entered,  Vance  recognized  him  as  the  individual 
who  had  aided  him  the  day  of  the  rescue  of  Quattles  from  the 
mob. 

"  There  's  a  sort  of  freemasonry,  Mr.  Vance,"  said  Winslow, 
"  that  assures  me  I  may  trust  you.  Your  s^nnpathies,  sir,  are 
with  the  Union." 

Wary  and  suspicious,  Vance  bowed,  but  made  no  reply. 
"  Do  not  doubt  me,"  continued  Winslow.  "  True,  I  Ve  been 
a  slaveholder.  But  't  is  now  several  years  since  I  owned  a 
slave.  Mr.  Vance,  I  want  your  counsel,  and,  it  may  be,  your 
aid.  Still  distrustful  ?  How  shall  I  satisfy  you  that  I  'm  not 
a  traitor  knave  ?  " 

"  Enough,  Mr.  Winslow !  I  '11  trust  your  threescore  years 
and  your  loyal  face.  Tell  me  what  I  can  do  for  you.  Be 
seated." 


316  PECULIAR. 

They  sat  do  .vn,  and  tlif  old  man  resumed :  "  I  have  lived  in 
this  city  more  than  forty  }  ears,  Mr.  A^anre,  but  for  some  time 
I  've  foreseen  that  there  would  be  little  hope  for  a  man  of 
Northern  bii-th  unless  he  would  consent  to  howl  with  the  pack 
for  secession  and  a  slave  confederacy.  Now  I  'm  too  old  to 
tune  my  bark  to  any  such  note.  The  consequence  is,  I  am  a 
marked  man,  liable  at  any  moment  to  be  seized  and  impris- 
oned. My  property  here  is  nearly  all  in  real  estate ;  so  if 
that  is  confiscated,  as  it  will  be,  I  've  no  fear  but  Uncle  Sam 
will  soon  come  to  give  it  back  to  me.  The  rest  of  my  assets 
it  will  be  hard  for  the  keenest-scented  inquisitor  to  find.  To- 
day, by  tlie  death  of  Mrs.  Ratcliff — " 

'*  Of  what  Mrs.  Ratcliff?  "  inquired  Yance. 

"Mrs.  Carberry  Ratcliff.  By  her  death  I  become  the 
legally  iiTesponsible,  and  therefore  all  the  more  morally  tlie 
responsible,  manager  of  an  estate  of  more  than  half  a  million, 
of  which  a  considerable  portion  is  to  be  used  by  me  for  the 
benefit  of  two  women  at  present  slaves." 

"  But  her  husband  will  never  consent  to  it ! "  interposed 
Vance. 

"  Fortunately,"  replied  "Winslow,  "  all  the  property  was  some 
time  since  sent  North  and  converted  into  gold.  Well :  I  'vc 
just  come  from  an  interview  with  Ratcliff  liimself.  He  came 
to  tell  me  of  his  wife's  death.  He  brought  with  him  a  quasi 
will,  signed  a  year  ago,  in  wliich  his  wife  requests  me  to  hand 
over  to  him  such  property  as  I  may  consider  at  her  disposal. 
He  called  on  me  to  demand  that  I  should  forthv.ith  surrender 
my  trust;  said  he  was  in  immediate  need  of  three  hundred 
thousand  dollars.  He  did  not  dream  of  a  rebuff.  He  was  in 
high  spirits.  The  news  from  Bull  Run  had  greatly  elated 
him.  His  wife's  death  he  plainly  regarded  as  a  happy  relief. 
Conceive  of  liis  wrath,  when,  in  the  midst  of  his  lofty  hopes 
and  haughty  demands,  I  handed  him  a  copy  of  the  memoranda, 
noted  down  by  me  this  very  day,  in  wldch  Mrs.  Ratcliff  makes 
a  very  different  disposition  of  the  property." 

"  I  know  something  of  the  man's  tem[)er,"  said  Vance. 

"  He  laughed  a  scornful  laugh,"  resumed  "Winslow,  "  and, 
shaking  his  forefinger  at  me,  said :  '  You  shall  swing  for  this, 
you  damned  old  Yankee  !     Your  trusteeship  is  n't  worth  a 


SATAN  AMUSES  HIMSELF.  317 

Straw.  I  '11  have  you  compelled  to  disgorge,  this  very  hour.' 
But  when  I  told  him  that  the  whole  half- million,  left  in  my 
hands  by  his  wife's  father,  was  safely  deposited  in  gold  in  a 
Northern  city,  the  man  actually  grew  livid  with  rage.  He 
drew  his  Derringer  on  me,  and  would  probably  have  shot  me 
but  for  the  ?ober  second  thought  that  told  him  he  could  make 
more  out  of  me  living  than  dead.  In  a  frenzy  he  left  my 
office.  This  was  about  half  an  hour  ago.  After  reflection  on 
our  interview  I  concluded  it  would  be  prudent  in  me  to  escape 
from  the  city  if  possible,  and  I  have  come  to  ask  if  you  can  aid 
me  in  doing  it." 

"  Nothing  could  be  more  opportune,"  repKed  Vance,  "  than 
your  coming.  I  have  laid  all  my  plans  to  leave  in  a  small 
steamer  this  very  night.  A  young  friend  goes  with  me.  You 
shall  accompany  us.     Have  you  any  preparations  to  make  ?  " 

"  None,  except  to  find  some  trustworthy  person  with  whom 
I  can  leave  an  amount  of  money  for  the  two  slave-women  of 
whom  I  spoke.  For  it  would  be  dangerous,  if  not  impractica- 
ble, to  attempt  to  take  them  with  us." 

"  Yes,  use  your  golden  keys  to  unlock  their  chains  in  this 
ca^e,"^  said  Vance.  "  Do  not  show  yourself  again  on  the  street. 
Ratc'liff  will  at  once  have  detectives  at  your  heels.  Hark  ! 
There  's  a  knock  at  the  door.  Pass  into  my  chamber,  and  lock 
yourself  in,  and  open  only  to  my  rapping,  thus,  — one,  two  — 
one,  two  —  one." 

^  Winslow  obeyed,  and  Vance,  opening  his  parlor  door,  met 
Kenrick. 

"  WeU,  cousin,"  asked  Vance,  "  are  you  all  ready  ?  You 
look  p;ile,  man  !     What 's  the  matter  ?  " 

''  Nothing,"  replied  Kenrick  ;  «  that  is,  everything.     I  wish 
I  'd  never  seen  that  Perdita  Brown  !     Look  here  !     They  've  • 
got  her  photograph  in  the  print-shops.     Beautiful,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  it  almost  does  her  justice.  Could  you  draw  out  from 
the  Tremaines  no  remark  which  would  afford  a  further  clew  ?  " 

"  After  )'ou  had  failed,  what  could  I  hope  to  do  ?  But  I  '11 
tell  you  what  I  ventured  upon.  All  stratagems  in  love  and 
war  are  venial,  I  suppose.  Seeing  that  Miss  Tremaine  was 
deeply  interested  in  your  conquering  self,  I  tried  to  pique 
her  by  making  her  think  you  were  secretly  enamored  of  Miss 


318  PECULIAR. 

Brown.  She  denied  it  warmly.  I  then  said  :  '  Reflect !  Has 
n't  he  been  very  inquisitive  in  trying  to  find  out  all  he  could 
about  her  ? '  She  was  obliged  to  confess  that  you  had ;  and  at 
last,  after  considerable  skirmishing  between  us,  she  dropped 
this  remark  :  '  Those  who  would  fall  in  love  with  her  had 
better  first  find  out  whether  she  's  a  lady.'  '  She  certainly 
appeai-s  one,'  I  replied.  '  Yes,'  said  Miss  Tremaine,  '  and  so 
does  many  a  Creole  who  has  African  blood  in  her  veins.' " 

"  Ah  !  what  could  that  mean  ?  "  exclaimed  Vance,  thought- 
fully.    "  Can  that  story  of  a  paternal  Brown  be  all  a  lie  ?  " 

Here  there  was  a  low  knock  at  the  door.  Vance  opened  it, 
and  there  stood  Peek. 

"  Come  in  ! "  said  Vance,  grasping  him  by  the  hand,  di-awing 
him  in,  and  closing  the  door.     "  What  news  ?  " 

And  then,  seeing  the  negro's  hesitation,  Vance  turned  to 
Kem-ick,  and  said :  "  Cousin,  tliis  is  the  man  to  whom  you 
need  no  introduction.  He  was  christened  PecuHar  Institution ; 
but,  for  brevity,  we  call  him  Peek." 

Kenrick  put  out  his  hand  with  a  face  so  glowing  with  a 
cordial  respect  that  Peek  could  not  resist  the  proffer. 

"  Now,  Peek,"  said  Vance,  "  pull  off  that  hot  wig  and  those 
gi'een  spectacles,  and,  unless  you  would  keep  us  standing,  sit 
down  and  be  at  ease.  There  !  That 's  right.  Now,  first  of 
all,  did  you  hit  upon  any  trace  of  your  wife  and  boy  ?  " 

"  None,  ISIi*.  Vance.     I  think  they  cannot  be  in  Texas." 

"  Then  what  of  Colonel  Delancy  Hyde  ?  " 

"  The  Colonel  was  said  to  have  attached  himself  to  the  for- 
tunes of  General  Van  Dorn.  That 's  all  I  could  find  out  about 
Hyde." 

"  Pity  !  I  must  unearth  the  fellow  somehow.  The  fate  of 
that  poor  little  girl  of  the  Pontiac  haunts  me  night  and  day. 
My  suspicions  of  foul  play  have  been  fully  confirmed.  When 
you  have  time,  read  this  letter  which  I  had  written  to  send 
you.  It  ^^dll  tell  you  of  all  I  learnt  from  Quattles  and  Amos 
Slink.     But  you  have  something  to  ask.     What  is  it  ?  " 

"  Where  shall  I  find  Cai)tain  Onslow  of  the  Confederate 
army  ?  " 

Vance  pointed  to  Kenrick,  who  replied  :  "  I  know  him  well. 
He  is  probably  now  in  this  house.  'T  is  his  usual  time  for 
dressing  for  dinner." 


1 


SATAN  AMUSES  HIMSELF.  319 

"  I  Ve  terrible  news  for  him,"  said  Peek. 

"  What  has  happened  ?  " 

"On  my  way  from  Austin  to  Fort  Duncan  on  the  Rio 
Grande  I  passed  through  San  Antonio.  You  have  heard  some- 
thing of  the  persecutions  of  Union  men  in  Western  Texas  ?  " 

"  Yes.    Good  Heavens !    Is  old  Onslow  among  the  victims  ? " 

"He  and  his  whole  family  — wife,  son,  and  daughter  —  have 
been  slain  by  the  Confederate  agents." 

The  cousins  looked  at  each  other,  and  each  grew  paler  as  he 
read  the  other's  thought.  Vance  spoke  first.  "  Go  on,  Peek," 
he  said.     "  Tell  us  what  you  know." 

"  The  old  man,  you  see,"  said  Peek,  "  has  been  trying  for 
some  time  to  do  without  slave  labor.    He  has  employed  a  good 
many  Germans  on  his  lands.      The  slaveholders  have  n't  Hked 
this.     At  the  beginning  of  the  Rebellion  he  went  with  old 
Houston   and   others   against  secession;    but   when   Houston 
caved  in,  Onslow  remained  firm  and  plucky.     He  kept  quiet, 
however,  and  did  nothing  tliat  the  Secesh  authorities  could  find 
fault  with.    But  what  they  wanted  was  an  excuse  for  murdering 
him  and  seizing  his  lands.     They  employed  three  scoundrels,  a 
broken-down  lawyer,  a  planter,  and  a  horse-jockey,  to  visit  him 
under  the  pretence  that  they  were  good  Union  and  antislavery 
men,  trying  to  escape  the  conscription.     The  old  man  fell  into 
the  trap.     Thinking  he  was  among  friends,  he  freely  declared, 
that '  he  meant  to  keep  true  to  the  old  flag ;  that  only  one  of  his 
family  had  turned  traitor ;  the  rest  (thank  God  !)  including  the 
women,  were  thoroughly  loyal ;  that  secession  would  prove  a 
failure,  and  end  (thank  God  always  !)  in  the  breaking  up  of 
slavery.'     At  the  same  time  he  told  them  he  should  make  no 
resistance,  either  open  or  clandestine,  to  the  laws  of  the  State. 
The  scoundrels  tried  to  implicate  him  in  some  secret  plot,  but 
failed.     They  had  drawn  out  of  him  enough,  however,  for  their 
purposes.  ^  They  left  him,  and  straightway  denounced  him  as 
an  Abolitionist.     A  gang  of  cutthroats,  set  on  by  the  Rebel 
leaders,  came  to  hang  him.      Well  knowing  he  could  expect  no 
mercy,  the  old  man  barricaded  his  doors,  armed  his  household, 
and  prepared  to  resist.     The  women  loaded  the  guns  while  the 
men  fired.      Several  of  the  assailants  were  wounded.      The 
rest  grew  furious,  and  at  last  made  an  entrance  by  a  back  door, 


320  PECULIAR. 

rushed  iu,  and  overpowered  William  Onslow,  the  son,  who  lisid 
received  a  ball  in  liis  neck.  They  dragged  him  out  and  hung 
him  to  a  tree.  The  daughter  they  tried  to  pinion  and  lash  to 
the  floor,  but  she  fought  so  desperately  that  a  ruffian,  whose 
hail-  she  had  torn  out  by  the  roots,  shot  her  dead.  The 
mother,  in  a  frantic  attempt  to  save  the  daughter,  received  a 
blow  on  the  head  from  which  she  died.  The  old  man,  ex- 
hausted and  fatally  wounded,  was  disarmed,  and  placed  under 
guard  in  the  room  from  which  he  had  been  firing.  It  was  not 
till  the  women  and  the  son  were  dead  that  I  arrived  on  the 
spot.  I  claimed  to  be  a  Secesh  nigger,  and  the  passes  Mr. 
Vance  had  given  me  confirmed  my  story.  The  Rebels  regarded 
me  as  a  friend  and  helper.  I  lurked  round  the  room  where  the 
old  man  was  confined,  and  at  last,  through  whiskey,  I  pei-suaded 
his  guard  to  lie  down  and  go  to  sleep.  I  then  made  myself 
known  to  the  sufferer.  I  helped  him  write  a  letter  to  his  sur- 
viving son.  Here  it  is,  stained  as  you  see  by  the  writer's  blood. 
You  can  read  it,  Mr.  Vance.  It  contains  no  secrets.  Hardly 
had  I  concealed  it  in  my  pocket,  whon  some  of  the  Rebels  came 
in,  seized  the  old  man,  helpless  and  d}ing  as  he  was,  and,  di-ag- 
glng  him  out,  hung  him  on  a  tree  by  the  side  of  his  son." 

Peek  ended  his  narrative,  and  Vance,  taking  the  proffered 
letter,  slowly  di-ew  it  from  the  envelope  and  unfolded  it.  There 
dropped  out  four  strands  of  hair :  one  white,  one  iron-gi^ay,  one 
a  fine  and  thick  flaxen,  and  one  a  rich  brown-black. 

"  I  cut  off  those  strands  of  hair,  tliinking  that  Captain  Ons- 
low might  prize  them,"  said  Peek. 

"  You  did  well,"  remarked  Vance.  "  And  since  you  have 
authority  to  permit  it,  I  will  read  this  letter," 

He  then  read  aloud  as  follows  :  — 

"  Stricken  down  by  a  death-wound,  I  write  this.  When  it 
reaches  you,  my  son,  you  will  be  tlie  last  survivor  of  your 
family.  The  faithful  negro  who  bears  this  letter  ^^ill  teU  you 
all.  You  may  rely  on  what  he  says.  This  cratty,  tliis  Satanic 
Slave  Power  has  —  I  can  use  the  pen  no  longer.  But  I 
can  dictate.     The  negro  must  be  my  amanuensis." 

And  then,  in  a  different  handwriting,  the  letter  proceeded :  — ■ 

"  This  Slave  Power,  which,  for  many  weeks  past,  has  been 
hunting  down  and  hanging  Union  men,  has  at  last  laid  its 


SATAN  AMUSES  HIMSELF.  321 

bloody  hand  on  our  innocent  household.  Should  you  meet 
Colonel  A.  J.  Hamilton,*  he  will  tell  you  something  of  what 
the  pro-slavery  butchers  have  been  doing. 

"  Yesterday  three  men  called  on  me.  They  brought  forged 
lettei's  from  one  I  knew  to  be  my  Iriend.  The  trick  succeeded. 
I  admitted  them  to  my  confidence.  They  left  and  denounced 
me  to  the  Confederate  leaders.  My  only  crime  was  a  secret 
sympathy  with  the  Union  cause.  Not  a  finger  had  I  lii'ted  or 
threatened  to  lift  against  the  ruling  powers  of  the  State.  But 
I  did  not  love  slavery,  —  that  was  the  crime  of  crimes  m  the 
eyes  of  Jeff  Davis's  immediate  partisans  and  friends. 

"  To-day  they  came  with  ropes  to  hang  us,  —  to  hang  us, 
remember,  not  for  resistance  to  authority,  however  usurped, 
not  for  one  imprudent  act  or  threat  against  slavery,  but  simply 
because  we  were  known  at  heart  to  disap})rove  of  slavery, 
and  consequently  to  love  the  old  flag.  And  many  hundreds 
have  been  hung  here  for  no  other  offence.  We  knew  we  could 
expect  no  better  fate  than  our  neighbors  had  bravely  encoun- 
tered ;  and  we  resolved,  men  and  women,  to  sell  our  lives 
dearly.  Your  brother  fell  wounded,  and  was  hung  ;  then  your 
sister,  resisting  outrage,  was  slain ;  then  your  mother,  striving 
to  protect  Emily,  received  a  mortal  blow.  And  I  am  lying 
here  wounded,  soon  to  be  dragged  forth  and  hung  —  for  what  ? 
—  for  unbelief,  not  in  a  God,  but  in  the  Southern  Confederacy 
and  its  comer-stone  ! 

"And  this  is  slavery!  All  these  brutalities  and  wrongs 
spring  from  slavery  as  naturally  as  the  fruit  from  the  blossom. 
That  which  is  inherently  wrong  must,  by  eternal  laws,  still  pro- 
duce and  reproduce  wrong.     The  right  to  hold  one  innocent 

*  Late  member  of  Congress  from  Texas.  In  his  speech  in  New  York 
(1862)  he  said:  "I  know  that  the  loyalists  of  Texas  have  died  deaths  not 
heard  of  since  the  dark  ages  until  now;  not  only  hunted  and  shot,  murdered 
upon  their  own  thresholds,  but  tied  up  and  scalded  to  death  with  boiling 
water;  torn  asunder  by  wild  horses  listened  to  their  feet;  whole  neighbor- 
hoods of  men  extenuinated,  and  their  wives  and  children  driven  away." 

It  is  estimated  by  a  writer  in  the  New  Orleans  Crescent  (June,  1863),  that 
at  least  twenty-Jive  hundred  persons  had  been  hung  in  Texas  during  the  pre- 
ceding two  J e?irs,  for  fidelity  to  the  Union. 

The  San  Antonio  (Texas)  Herald,  a  Rebel  sheet  of  November  18th,  1862, 
taunted  the  Unionists  with  the  havoc  that  had  been  made  among  them !  It 
says:  "  They  (Union  men)  are  known  and  will  be  remembered.  Their  num- 
bers were  small  at  first,  and  they  are  becoming  every  day  less.  In  the 
mountains  near  Fort  Clark  and  along  the  Rio  Grande  their  bones  are  bleach- 
ing in  the  sim,  and  in  the  counties  of  Wire  and  Deuton  their  bodies  are 
suspended  by  scores  from  black-jacks." 

Such  ai'e  the  shameless  butchers  and  hangmen  that  Slavery  spawns! 
14*  U 


322  PECULIAR. 

man  a  slave,  implies  the  right  to  enslave  or  murder  any  other 
man !  There  is  no  such  right.  It  is  a  lie  bom  in  the  inmost 
brain  of  hell.  No  laws  can  make  it  a  right.  No  clamor  of 
majorities  can  give  it  a  sanction.  In  slavery,  Satan  once  more 
scales  the  heavenly  heights. 

"  Jeff  Davis,  I  hear,  has  just  joined  the  church.  Would  he 
be  pardoned,  and  retain  the  offence  ?  If  so,  not  prayers  nor 
sacraments  can  save  his  trembling  and  perjured  soul  from  the 
guilt  of  such  wrongs  as  1  and  mine,  and  hundreds  of  other  true 
men  and  women,  here  in  Texas  have  fallen  under  because  of 
slavery.  God  is  not  to  be  cheated  by  any  such  flattering  unc- 
tion as  Davis  is  laying  to  his  heart.  The  more  he  seeks  to 
cover  profane  with  holy  tilings,  the  deeper  will  be  his  damna- 
tion in  that  world  where  all  shams  and  self-delusions  are  dis- 
solved, and  the  true  man  stands  revealed,  to  be  judged  by  his 
fidelity  to  Christ's  golden  i-ule,  —  to  the  cause  of  justice  and 
humanity  on  earth. 

"  Oui'  national  agony  is  the  old  conflict  of  the  Divine  A^dth 
the  Satanic  princi2:)le.  Believe  in  God,  my  son,  and  you  can- 
not doubt  the  result.  Do  you  suppose  Eternal  Justice  will  be 
patient  much  longer  ?  Think  of  the  atrocities  to  which  this 
American  slave  system  has  reconciled  us  !  A  free  white  man 
can,  in  any  of  the  Slave  States,  go  into  a  negro's  house  and 
beat  or  kill  any  of  the  inmates,  and  not  be  prosecuted  by  law, 
except  a  free  w^hite  man  sees  him  do  it ;  because  a  negrds  testi- 
mony is  not  taken  against  a  ivhite  man.  As  for  the  marriage  of 
slaves,  you  well  know"  what  a  mere  farce  —  what  a  subject  for 
ribaldry  and  laughter  —  it  is  among  the  masters.  No  tie, 
whether  of  affection,  of  blood,  or  of  form,  is  respected.* 

"  The  originators  of  this  rebellion  saw  that  by  inevitable  laws 
of  ^population  slavery  must  go  down  under  a  republican  form 
of  government.  Theii'  fears  and  their  jealousies  of  freedom 
grew  intolerable.  The  very  word  free  became  hateful.  They 
saw  that  theii*  property  in  slaves  depended  for  its  duration  on 
the  action  of  poHtical  forces  slumbering  in  the  mass  of  their 
white  population,  which  population,  though  now^  densely  igno- 
rant, would  gradually  learn  that  slavery  is  adverse  to  the  inter- 
ests of  nine  tenths  of  the  whites.  And  so  this  war  was  origi- 
nated even  less  to  separate  from  the  North  than  to  crush  into 
hopeless  subjection,  through  that  separation^  the  white  masses  at 

*  "  Marriage,"  says  a  Catholic  Bishop  of  a  Southern  State,  quoted  in  the 
Cincinnati  Catholic  Telegraph,  "  is  scarcely  known  amongst  them  (the 
slaves)  ;  the  masters  attach  no  importance  to  it.  In  some  States  those  who 
teach  them  (the  slaves)  to  read  ai'e punished  with  death.'^ 


SATAN  AMUSES   HIMSELF.  323 

the  South.  The  slave  barons  dreaded  lest  this  drugged  and 
stupefied  giant  should  rouse  from  his  ignoble  slumber,  and, 
learning  his  strength,  and  opening  his  eyes  to  the  truth,  should, 
Samson-like,  seize  the  pillars  of  their  system.  To  prevent  this, 
a  grand  oligarchy  of  slaveholders  must  be  created,  and  the  lib- 
erties of  the  whites  destroyed ! 

"  You  will  see  all  this  now,  my  son.  Yes,  I  have  this  com- 
fort in  my  extremity  :  my  son  will  be  converted  from  wrong  ; 
the  stubborn  head  will  be  reached  thi-ough  the  stricken  heart ; 
we  shall  not  have  died  in  vain.  And  his  conversion  will  be 
instantaneous.  But  be  prudent,  my  son.  Let  not  passion  be- 
tray you.  These  Rebel  leaders  are  as  remorseless  as  4hej  are 
crafty.  All  the  bad  energies  of  the  very  prince  of  devils  are 
ranged  on  their  side,  and  will  help  them  to  temporary  success. 

"  Let  them  see  that  higher  and  more  persistent  energies  can 
spring  from  the  right.  What  I  most  fear  for  the  North  is  the 
paralyzing  effect  of  its  prosperity.  It  will  go  on  thriving  on 
the  war,  while  the  South  is  learning  the  wholesome  training 
of  adversity.  Young  men  at  the  North  will  be  tempted  by 
money-making  to  stay  at  home.  The  voice  of  Mammon  will 
be  louder  than  the  voice  of  God  in  their  hearts.  This  will  be 
their  tremendous  peril.  But  God  will  not  be  thwarted.  If 
prosperity  will  not  make  the  North  do  God's  ^vork,  then  adver- 
sity must  be  called  in. 

"  Set  your  heart  on  no  private  vengeance,  my  son.  Take 
this  as  my  d}dng  entreaty.  Let  your  revenge  be  the  restora- 
tion of  the  old  flag.  All  the  rest  must  follow  as  the  night  the 
day.  ....  And  now,  farewell !  May  God  bless  and  guide  you. 
I  go  to  join  your  mother,  brother,  and  sister.  Their  spirits  are 
round  me  while  I  speak.  Their  love  goes  forth  to  you  with 
mine,  and  my  prayer  for  you  is  their  prayer  also.     Adieu  ! " 

There  was  silence  for  a  full  minute  after  the  reading. 

"  I  '11  wait,"  said  Kenrick,  "  till  he  gets  through  dinner  be- 
fore I  tell  him  the  news.  He'll  need  all  his  strength,  poor 
fellow ! " 

"  I  foresee,"  said  Vance,  "  that  Onslow  will  be  of  our  party 
of  escape  this  night."  And  then,  turning  to  Peek,  he  remarked : 
"  Your  coming.  Peculiar,  is  timely.  I  want  the  help  of  a  trust- 
worthy driver.  You  are  the  man  for  us.  Can  you,  without 
exciting  suspicion,  get  the  control  of  a  carriage  and  two  fast, 
fresh  horses  ?  " 

Peek  reflected  a  moment,  and  then  said  :  "  Yes ;  I  know  a 


324  PECULLVK. 

colored  inau,  Antoine  Lafour,  who  has  the  care  of  t^^•o  of  the 
best  horses  in  the  city.  His  master  really  thinks  Antoine 
would  fight  any  Abolitionist  who  might  come  to  free  him  ;  but 
Antoine  and  I  laugh  at  the  old  man's  credulity." 

"  There  's  yet  another  service  you  can  render,"  said  Vance ; 
and  he  gave  five  raps  on  the  door  of  his  chamber. 

The  lock  was  turned  from  the  inside,  and  Winslow  appeared. 

"  Yo"u  're  among  friends,"  said  Vance.  "  This  is  my  cousin, 
Mr.  Kenrick ;  and  this  is  Peculiar  Institution,  otherwise  called 
Peek.  Notwithstanding  his  inauspicious  name,  you  may  trust 
him  as  ypu  would  your  own  right  hand." 

"  But  I  want  an  agent  who  can  write  and  keep  accounts." 

"  Then  Peek  is  just  the  man  for  you.  Of  his  ability  you 
can  satisfy  youi-self  in  five  minutes.  For  his  honesty  I  will 
vouch." 

"  But  will  he  remain  in  New  Orleans  the  next  six  months  ?  " 

"  I  hope  so,"  replied  Vance.  "  This  is  my  plan  for  you, 
Peek :  that  you  should  still  occupy  that  little  house  of  mine 
with  the  Bernards.  I  've  spoken  to  them  about  it ;  and  they 
will  treat  you  well  for  my  sake.  I  want  some  one  here  with 
whom  I  may  freely  communicate  ;  and  more,  I  want  you  to 
pursue  your  search  for  Colonel  Delancy  Hyde,  and  to  secure 
him  when  found,  wliich  you  can  easily  do  with  money.  Will 
you  remain  ?  " 

"  You  know  how  it  is  with  me,  Mr.  Vance,"  said  Peek.  "  I 
have  two  objects  in  life :  One  is  to  find  my  wife  and  child ;  the 
other  is  to  help  on  the  great  cause.  For  both  these  objects  I 
can  have  no  better  head-quarters  than  New  Orleans." 

"  Good !  He  wUl  remain,  Mr.  Winslow.  Go  now  both  of 
you  into  the  next  room.  You  11  find  writing  materials  on  the 
table." 

The  old  man  and  the  negro  ^vithdrew.  Kenrick  paced  the 
floor,  thinking  one  moment  of  Clara,  and  the  next  of  the  dread- 
ful communication  he  must  make  to  Onslow.  Vance  sat  down 
and  leaned  his  head  on  his  hands  to  consider  if  there  was  any- 
thing he  had  left  undone. 

"  I  hear  some  one  knocking  at  the  door  of  my  room,"  said 
Kenrick.  He  went  into  the  corridor,  and  a  servant  handed 
him  a  card.  It  was  from  Onslow,  and  pencilled  on  it  was  the 
following :  — 


SATAN  AMUSES 'HIMSELF.  325 

"  Come  to  the  dinner-table,  Kenrick.  Where  are  you  ? 
Dreaminj]^  of  Perdita  ?  Or  planning  impracticable  victories 
for  your  Yankee  friends  ?  Come  and  join  me  in  a  bottle  of 
claret.  It  may  be  our  last  together.  Only  think  of  it,  my 
dear  fellow,  I  am  to  be  made  a  Colonel !  But  that  will  not 
please  you.  Sink  politics !  We  will  ignore  all  that  is  dis- 
agreeable. There  shall  be  no  slavery,  —  no  Rebeldom,  —  no 
Yankeedom.  All  shall  be  Arcadian.  We  will  talk  over  old 
times,  and  compare  notes  in  regard  to  Perdita.  I  don't  believe 
you  are  a  tenth  part  as  much  in  love  as  I  am.  Where  has  the 
enchantress  gone  ?  '  O  matchless  sweetness  !  whither  art  thou 
vanished  ?  O  thou  fair  soul  of  all  thy  sex !  what  paradise  hast 
thou  enriched  and  blessed  ? '  Come,  Kenrick,  come  ;  if  only 
for  auld  lang  syne,  come  and  chat  with  me  ;  for  the  day  of 
action  draws  near,  when  there  shall  be  no  more  chatting ! " 

Sick  at  heart,  Kenrick  handed  the  card  to  Vance,  who  read 
it,  and  said :  "  The  sooner  a  disagreeable  duty  is  discharged, 
the  better.  Go,  cousin,  and  let  him  know  the  character  of  that 
fell  Power  which  he  would  serve.  Let  him  know  what  reason 
he,  of  all  men,  has  to  love  it !  " 

"  I  'd  rather  face  a  battery  than  do  it ;  but  it  must  be  done." 

At  the  same  moment  Winslow  and  the  negro  entered. 

"  I  Ve  arranged  everything  with  Peek,"  said  the  old  man. 
"  I  Ve  placed  in  his  hands  funds  which  I  think  will  be  suffi- 
cient." 

"  That  reminds  me  that  I  must  do  the  same,"  said  Vance ; 
and,  taking  a  large  sum  in  bank-bills  from  his  pocket-book,  he 
gave  it  to  Peek  to  use  as  he  might  see  fit,  first  for  the  common 
cause,  and  secondly  for  prosecuting  inquiries  in  regard  to  the 
kidnapped  child  of  the  Pontiac,  and  his  own  family. 

Peek  carefully  noted  down  dates  and  amounts  in  a  memo- 
randum-book, and  then  remarked,  "  Now  I  must  see  Captain 
Onslow." 

"  Give  me  that  letter  from  his  father,  and  I  will  myself 
deliver  it,"  said  Kenrick. 

"  But  I  promised  to  see  him." 

"  That  you  can  do  this  evening." 

Peek  gave  up  the  letter,  and  Kenrick  darted  out  of  the 
room. 

Turning  to  Vance  and  Winslow,  Peek  remarked  :  "  I  thank 


326  PECULIAR. 

you  for  your  confidence,  gentlemen.  I  '11  do  my  be^t  to  de- 
serve it." 

"  I  wish  our  banks  deserved  it  as  well,"  said  Vance ;  then  he 
added  :  "  And  now,  Peek,  make  your  arrangements  carefully, 
and  be  with  the  carriage  at  the  door  just  under  my  window  at 
nine  o'clock  precisely." 

Peek  compared  watches  with  Vance,  promised  to  be  punc- 
tual, and  took  his  leave. 

Vance  rang  the  bell,  and  ordered  a  private  dinner  for  two. 
Unlocking  a  di-^wer,  he  took  from  it  two  revolvers  and  handed 
one  to  TTiuslow,  with  the  remark,  "  You  are  skilled  in  the  use 
of  the  pistol,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Though  I  've  been  a  planter  and  owned  slaves,  I  must 
say  noT 

''  Then  a  revolver  would  rather  be  a  danger  than  a  security." 

And  Vance  thrust  the  pistols  into  the  side  pockets  of  his 
own  coat. 

Dinner  was  brought  in. 

'•  Come,"  said  Vance,  "  we  must  eat.  My  way  of  life  has 
compelled  me  to  suffer  no  excitement  to  impair  my  appetite. 
Indeed,  I  have  passed  through  the  one  supreme  excitement, 
after  which  all  others,  even  the  prospect  of  immediate  death, 
are  quite  tame.  Happy  the  man,  ISIr.  Winslow,  who  can  say, 
I  cling  to  this  life  no  longer  for  myself,  but  for  others  and  for 
humanity ! " 

"  Such  a  sentiment  would  better  become  a  man  of  my  age 
than  of  yours,"  replied  Winslow. 

'•  Here  's  the  dinner,"  said  Vance.  "  Now  let  us  talk  noth- 
ing but  nonsense.  Let  us  think  of  nothing  that  requires  the 
effort  of  a  serious  thought." 

"  Well  then,"  replied  Winslow.  "  Suppose  we  discuss  the 
last  number  of  De  Bow's  Review,  or  that  charlatan  Maury's 
last  lying  letter  in  the  London  Times." 

"  Excellent ! "  said  Vance.  "  For  reaching  the  very  sub- 
lime of  the  supei-ficial,  commend  me  to  De  Bow  or  to  the 
Chevalier  Maury." 

Before  the  dinner  was  over,  each  man  felt  that  the  day  had 
not  been  unprofitable,  since  he  had  earned  a  friend. 


LIGHT  FROM  THE  PIT.  327 

CHAPTER    XXXIV. 

LIGHT  FROM  THE  PIT. 

'*  There  's  not  a  breathing  of  the  common  wind 
That  will  forget  thee  ;  thou  hast  great  allies  ; 
Thy  friends  are  exultations,  agonies, 
And  love,  and  Man's  unconquerable  mind."  —  Wordsworth, 

KENRICK  found  Onslow  seated  at  one  of  the  tables  of 
the  large  dining-hall  and  expecting  his  coming.  The 
chair  on  his  right  was  tipped  over  on  its  fore  legs  against  the 
table  as  a  signal  that  the  seat  was  engaged.  On  Onslow's  left 
sat  the  scoffer,  Robson. 

As  Kenrick  advanced,  Onslow  rose,  took  him  by  the  hand, 
and  placed  him  in  the  reserved  seat.  Robson  bowed,  and  filled 
three  glasses  with  claret. 

"  But  how  gi-ave  and  pale  you  look,  Charles !  "  said  Onslow. 
*'  What  the  deuce  is  the  matter  ?  Come  on !  Ahsit  atra  cura  ! 
Begone,  dull  care !  Toss  off  that  glass  of  claret,  or  Robson 
will  scorn  you  as  a  skulker." 

"  The  wine  is  not  bad,"  said  Robson,  "  but  there  should  have 
been  ice  in  the  cooler.  May  the  universal  Yankee  nation  be 
eternally  and  immitigably  consigned  to  perdition  for  depriving 
us  of  our  ice.  Every  time  I  am  thirsty,  —  and  that  is  fifty 
times  a  day,  —  my  temper  is  tried,  and  I  wish  I  had  a  plenipo- 
tentiary power  of  cursing.  With  the  thermometer  at  ninety, 
't  is  a  lie  to  say  Cotton  is  king.  Ice  is  king.  The  glory  of  our 
juleps  has  departed.  For  my  own  part,  I  would  grovel  at  old 
Abe's  feet  if  he  would  give  us  ice." 

Kenrick  could  not  force  a  smile.  He  touched  his  lips  with 
the  claret. 

"You  will  take  soup?"  inquired  Onslow.  "It  is  tomato, 
and  very  good." 

"  What  you  please,  I  'm  not  hungry." 

Onslow  ordered  the  servant  to  bring  a  plate  of  soup.  Ken- 
rick stirred  it  a  moment,  tasted,  then  pushed  it  from  him.     Its 


328  PECULIAR. 

color  reminded  him  of  the  precious  blood,  dear  to  his  friend, 
which  had  been  so  ruthlessly  shed. 

"  A  plate  of  pompinoe,"  said  Onslow. 

The  dainty  fish  was  put  before  Kenrick,  and  he  broke  it  into 
morsels  with  his  fork,  then  told  the  servant  to  take  it  away. 

"  But  you  've  no  appetite,"  complained  Onslow.  "  Is  it  the 
Perdita?" 

Kenrick  shook  his  head  mournfully. 

"Isit  BullEun?" 

"No.  Had  not  somebody  been  afraid  of  hurting  slavery, 
and  so  played  the  laggard,  the  United  States  forces  would  have 
carried  the  day ;  and  that  would  have  been  the  woi-st  thing  for 
tlie  country  that  could  have  happened ! " 

"  Did  I  not  promise  there  should  be  no  politics  ?  Neverthe- 
less, expound." 

"  He  laughs  best  who  lauglis  last.  Let  that  suffice.  It  is 
not  time  yet  for  the  Union  to  gain  decisive  victories ;  nor  will 
it  be  time  till  the  conscience  of  the  people  of  the  North  is  right 
and  ripe  for  the  uprooting  of  slavery.  Their  conservative 
politicians.  —  then*  Seymours  and  Pughs,  —  who  complain  of 
the  'irrepressible  negro,'  —  must  find  out  it  is  the  irrepressible 
God  Almighty,  and  give  up  kicking  against  the  pricks.  Then 
when  the  North  as  one  man  shall  say,  '  Thy  kingdom  come,'  — 
Thy  kingdom  of  justice  and  compassion,  —  then,  O  then!  we 
may  look  for  the  glorious  day-star  that  shall  herald  the  dawn. 
God  reigns.  Therefore  shall  slavery  not  reign.  I  believe  in 
the  moral  government  of  the  world." 

"  Is  n't  it  a  pity,  Robson,  that  so  good  a  fellow  as  Charles 
should  be  so  bitter  an  Abolitionist  ?  " 

"  Wait  tiU  he  's  tempted  with  a  colonelcy  in  the  Confederate 
army,"  sneered  Robson.  "Ah!  Mr.  Kenrick,  when  you  see 
Onslow  charging  into  Pliiladelphia,  at  the  head  of  his  troop  of 
horse,  sacking  that  plethoric  old  city  of  rectangles,  —  leering  at 
the  pretty  Quakeresses,  —  knocking  do\\Ti  his  own  men  for  un- 
soldierly  familiarities,  —  walking  into  those  Chestnut  Street 
jewelry  stores  and  pocketing  the  diamond  rings,  —  when  you 
see  all  ihat,  you  11  wish  you  'd  gone  with  the  winning  side." 

"  As  I  live,"  cried  Onslow,  '■  there  's  a  teai*  in  his  eye ! 
What  does  it  mean,  Charley?" 


LIGHT  FROM  THE  PIT.  329 

"  If  it  is  a  tear,  respect  its  sanctity,"  replied  Kenrick,  gravely. 

"  Gentlemen,  I  must  go,"  said  Eobson,  who  found  the  atmos- 
phere getting  to  be  unjoyous  and  uncongenial.  "  Good  by ! 
I  've  a  polite  invitation  to  be  present  at  a  meeting  to  raise 
money  for  the  outfit  of  a  new  regiment.  Between  ourselves, 
if  it  were  a  proposition  to  supply  the  alligators  in  our  bayous 
w^ith  gutta-percha  tails,  I  would  contiibute  my  money  much 
more  cheerfully,  assm'ed  that  it  would  do  much  more  good,  and 
be  a  far  more  profitable  investment.     Addio  ! " 

No  sooner  had  he  gone  than  Kenrick  said :  "  Let  us  adjourn 
to  your  room.     I  have  sometliing  to  say  to  you." 

In  silence  the  friends  passed  out  of  the  hall  and  up-stairs 
into  Onslow's  sleeping  apartment. 

"  Kem-ick,"  said  he,  "  your  manner  is  inexplicable.  It  chills 
and  distresses  me.  If  I  can  do  anything  for  you  before  I  go 
North  to  fight  for  the  stars  and  bars  — " 

"  Never  will  you  lift  the  arm  for  that  false  flag ! "  inten-upted 
Kenrick.  "  You  will  join  me  this  very  hour  in  cui^sing  it  and 
spui'ning  it." 

"  Chai'les,  your  hate  of  the  Confederacy  grows  morbid.  Let 
it  not  make  us  private  as  well  as  public  enemies." 

"  No,  Robert,  we  shall  be  faster  friends  than  ever." 

And  Kenrick  affectionately  threw  his  arms  round  his  friend 
and  pressed  him  to  his  breast. 

"But  what  does  this  mean,  Charles?"  cried  Onslow. 
"  There  's  a  terrible  pity  in  your  eyes.  Explain  it,  I  beseech 
you." 

Kenrick  drew  from  his  pocket  a  letter-envelope,  and,  taking 
from  it  four  strands  of  hair,  placed  them  on  the  white  marble 
of  the  bureau  before  Onslow's  eyes.  The  Captain  looked  at 
them  wonderingly;  took  up  one  after  another,  examined  it, 
and  laid  it  down.  His  breast  began  to  heave,  and  his  cheek  to 
pale.  He  looked  at  Kenrick,  then  turned  quickly  away,  as  if 
dreading  some  foreshadowing  of  an  evil  not  to  be  uttered. 
For  five  minutes  he  walked  the  room,  and  said  nothing.  Then 
he  again  went  to  the  bureau  and  regarded  the  strands  of  hair. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  speaking  tremulously  and  quickly,  and  not 
daring  to  look  at  Kenrick,  "  I  recognize  these  locks  of  hair. 
This  white  hair  is  my  father's ;  this  half  gray  is  my  mother's ; 


830  PECULIAR. 

this  beautiful  flaxen  is  my  sister  Emil/s ;  and  this  brownish 
black  is  my  brother's.  Why  do  you  put  these  before  me  ?  A 
sentimental  way  of  telling  me,  I  suppose,  that  they  all  send 
their  love,  and  beg  I  would  turn  Abolitionist ! " 

"  Yes,"  sighed  Kenrick.     "  From  their  gi-aves  they  beg  it." 

With  a  look  of  unspeakable  horror,  his  hands  pressed  on 
the  top  of  his  head  as  if  to  keep  down  some  volcanic  throe, 
his  moutli  open,  his  tongue  lolling  out,  idiot-like,  Onslow  stood 
speechless  stanng  at  his  friend. 

Kem'ick  led  him  gently  to  the  sofa,  forced  him  to  sit  down, 
and  then,  with  a  tendemees  almost  womanly  in  its  deUcacy, 
removed  the  sufferer's  hands  from  his  head,  and  smoothed  back 
his  thick  fine  hair  from  his  brow,  and  away  from  his  ears. 
Onslow's  inward  groanings  began  to  grow  audible.  Suddenly 
he  rose,  as  if  I'esolved  to  master  his  weakness.  Then,  sinking 
down,  he  exclaimed,  "  God  of  heaven,  can  it  be  ?  "  And  then 
groans  piteous  but  tearless  succeeded. 

At  last,  as  if  bracing  himself  to  an  effort  that  tore  his  very 
heai-t-strings,  he  rose  and  said,  "  Now,  Charles,  tell  me  all." 

Kenrick  handed  him  the  letter  which  Peek  had  brought. 
"  Let  me  leave  you  while  you  read,"  he  said.  Onslow  did  not 
object ;  and  Kenrick  went  into  the  corridor,  and  walked  there 
to  and  fi'o  for  nearly  half  an  hour.  Then  he  re-entered  the 
chamber.  Onslow  was  on  his  knees  by  the  sofa ;  his  father's 
letter,  smeared  Avith  his  father's  life-blood,  in  his  hand.  The 
young  man  had  been  praying.  And  his  eyes  showed  that 
prayer  had  so  softened  his  heart  that  he  could  weep.  He  rose, 
calm,  though  very  pale. 

"  Where  can  I  see  this  negro  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  He  will  be  here  at  the  hotel  this  evening,"  replied  Kenrick. 

"  And  what,  —  what,"  said  Onslow  hesitatingly,  "  what  did 
they  do  with  my  father  ?  " 

"  They  hung  him  on  the  same  tree  with  your  brother." 

"  Yes,"  said  Onslow,  with  a  calmness  more  terrible  than  a 
frantic  grief.  "  Yes  !  Of  course  his  gi-ay  hairs  were  no  pro- 
tection." 

There  was  a  pause ;  and  then,  "  What  do  you  mean  to  do  ?  " 
said  Kenrick. 

"  Can  you  doubt  ?  "  exclaimed  Onslow. 


LIGHT  FEOM  THE  PIT.  33J 

A  servant  knocked  at  the  door  and  left  a  package.  It  con- 
tan.ed  a  complimentary  letter  and  a  Colonel's  commission 
^gned  by  the  Confederate  authorities.  "You  see  these/'  sud 
O..SI0VV,  handmg  them  to  Kenrick.  Then,  taking  them,  he 
contemptuously  tore  them,  and  madly  threw  the  pieces  on  the 

don7rh',T  ^^*""  'X  "^["'" '''  '""^-  "  ^'  '^  Slavery  that  has 
the  bhnd  fool  the  abject  fawner,  that  I  've  been !  Instead  of 
bemg  by  the  s.de  of  my  brave  brother,  here  I  was  wearing  the 
detested  hvery  of  the  bnatal  Power  that  smote  down  a  w\oIe 

nT.0  ever  heard  of  a  man  being  harmed  at  the  North  for  de- 
finAng  Slavery?  No !  'tis  a  foul  Ue  to  say  that  aughTbtt 
Slavery  can  prompt  and  lend  itself  to  such  barbarities  f  The 
cowardly  butchers !     0,  damn  them  !  damn  them  ' " 

And  he  tore  from  his  shoulders  the  badges  of  his  military 
rank,  and  spurning  them  with  his  foot,  continued :  "  My  noble 
father !  he  good,  the  devout,  the  heroic  old  man !  How  even 
under  h.s  mortal  agony  his  belief  in  God,  in  right,  in  ^mor" 
tality  shmes  forth !    Did  ever  an  outcast  creature  aj^ply  to^l 

2;  ?I        J",  f  ra.ght  line,  with  the  motto  Omniu^n  hre.is. 

r  ;j!       A        "■f}'''  """''  ^  slaughtered  !    And  WaUam, 
^eLSt  'trS'L^J-'''  ^'^  ™^-e<l  and 

me^o'^God  .''f/  ""^tf  ^°"'  "™'  '"  ^'^^''''  '""^■-  "Hear 
me,  O  God!  Eternal  Justice,  hear  me!     If  ever  again    in 

bought  or  act  I  show  mercy  to  this  merciless  Slave  Powe;,^ 

on  of  iTr     "'"'"'l''^  "™*^^  "■  ""^'-  ^  ---i  -  «t«-a. 

unfit  either  fT'~"?f  ""'""'"*  ^'""^'-"^  ""^  ^  a  wretch 
unfit  either  for  this  world  or  any  other  !  " 

Then,  rising,  he  said,  "  Kenrick,  your  hand  '  " 

to  davlr''?'^^  ^'""'^-     "  ^y  ''™'"^'  Slavery  is  no  worse 
tw7J  ?.  '    -as  yesterday.     You  have  known  for  the  last 
three  months  that  these  minions  and  hirelings  of  the  slave  aris 
tocracy  were  hounding,  hanging,  and  torturing  men  through- 


332  PKCULIAR. 

out  Slavedom,  for  the  crime  of  being  true  to  tlieir  country's 
flag." 

"  I  knew  it,  Kenrick  ;  but  my  lieart  was  hardened,  and  there- 
fore have  God's  hammers  smitten  it  thrice,  —  nay,  four  times, 
terribly !  I  saw  these  things,  but  turned  away  from  them ! 
Idle  and  false  to  say,  Slavery  is  not  responsible  for  them  ! 
They  are  the  very  spawn  of  its  filthy  loins.  I  know  it,  —  I, 
who  have  been  behind  the  scenes,  know  wliat  the  leaders  say 
as  to  the  means  of  treading  out  every  s{)ark  of  Union  fire.  And 
I  —  heedless  idiot  that  I  was  !  —  never  once  thought  that  the 
bloody  instructions  might  return  to  plague  me,  —  that  my  own 
father's  family  might  be  among  the  foremost  victims  !  I  ac- 
knowledge the  hand  of  God  in  this  stroke  \  A  voice  cries  to  me, 
as  of  old  to  Saul,  '  Why  persecutest  thou  me  ? '  And  now 
there  fall  from  my  eyes  as  it  were  scales,  and  I  arise  and  am 
baptized ! " 

"  ]SIy  dear  friend,"  said  Kenrick,  '•  I  want  your  conversion  to 
be,  not  the  result  of  mere  passion,  but  of  calm  conviction.  I 
have  been  asking  myself,  TThat  if  a  party  of  Unionists  should 
outrage  and  murder  those  who  are  nearest  and  dearest  to 
myself,  —  would  I,  therefore,  embrace  the  pro-slavery  cause  ? 
And  from  the  very  depths  of  my  soul,  I  can  cry  No  !  Not 
through  passion,  —  though  I  have  enough  of  that,  —  but 
through  the  persuasion  of  my  intellect,  added  to  the  affirma- 
tion of  my  heart,  do  I  array  myself  against  this  hideous  Moloch 
of  slavery.  By  a  terrible  law  of  affinity,  wrongs  and  crimes 
cannot  stand  alone.  They  must  summon  other  wrongs  and 
crimes  to  their  support ;  and  so  does  murder  as  naturally  follow 
in  the  train  of  slavery,  as  the  little  parasite  fish  follows  the 
shark.  It  is  fallacy  to  say  that  the  best  men  among  slave- 
holders do  not  approve  of  these  outrages  ;  for  these  outrages 
are  now  the  necessary  and  inseparable  attendants  of  the  sys- 
tem." 

"  I  believe  it,"  said  Onslow.  "  0  the  wickedness  of  my 
apostasy  from  my  father's  faith !  O  the  sin,  and  O  the  pun- 
ishment !  It  needed  a  temble  blow  to  reach  me,  and  it  has 
come.  Kenrick,  do  not  withhold  your  hand.  Trust  me,  my 
conversion  is  radical.  The  '  institution  '  shall  henceforth  find 
in  me  its  deadliest  foe.  '  Delenda  est! '  is  now  and  henceforth 
my  motto !  " 


LIGHT  FROM   THE   PIT.  333 

Kenrick  clasped  Lis  proffered  hand,  and,  looking  up,  said,  «  So 
prosper  us,  Almighty  Disposer,  as  we  are  true  to^  the  promises 
of  this  hour  !  " 

"'  Charles,"  said  Onslow,  "I  did  not  think  that  Perdita  would 
so  soon  have  her  prayer  granted." 
"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Her  last  words  to  me  were,  '  May  this  arm  never  be  lifted 
except  m  the  cause  of  right ! '     I  feel  that  God  has  heard  her." 
It  jarred  on   Kenrick's  heart  for  the   moment  to  see  that 
Onslow,  in  the  midst  of  his  troubles,  still  thought  of  Perdita ; 
but  soon,  stilling  the  selfish  tremor,  he  said :  "  What  we  would 
do  we  must  do  quickly.     Will  you  go  North  with  me  and  join 
the  armies  of  the  Union  ?  " 
"  Yes,  the  first  opportunity." 
"  That  opportunity  will  be  this  very  night." 
"So  much  the  better!     I'm  ready.     I  had  but  one  tie  to 
bind  me  here  ;  and  that  was  Perdita.     And  she  has  fled.     And 
what  would  I  be  to  her,  were  she  here  ?     Nothing !     Charles, 
this  day's  news  has  made  me  ten  years  older  already.     O  for 
an  army  with  banners,  to  go  down  into  that  bloody  region  of 
the  Rio  Grande,  and  right  the  wrongs  of  the  persecuted! " 

"Be  patient.  We  shall  live  to  see  the  old  flag  wave  re- 
splendent  over  free  and  regenerated  Texas." 

"Amen  !  Good  heavens,  Charles  !  —  it  appalls  me,  when  I 
think  what  a  different  man  I  am  from  what  I  was  when  I 
crossed  this  threshold,  one  little  hour  ago!" 

"In  these  volcanic  days,"  said  Kenrick,  "such  changes  are 
not  surprising.  These  terrible  eruptions,  '  painting  hell  on  the 
sky,  uptear  many  old  convictions,  and  i^umine  many  beniohted 
minds.  ° 

"  Yes,"  rejoined  Onslow,  -  in  that  infernal  flash,  comin-  from 
my  own  violated  home,  I  see  slavery  as  it  is,  -  monstrous, 
bestial,  devihsh!_no  longer  the  graceful,  genteel,  hospitable, 
and  fascinating  embodiment  which  I  —  fond  fool  tliat  I  wa^  » — 
have  been  wont  to  tliink  it.  The  Republicans  of  the  North 
were  right  m  declaring  tliat  not  one  inch  more  of  national  soil 
should  be  surrendered  to  the  pollutions  of  slavery  " 

to  ZkT? "''''"  '""^^  ^'"'''^'     "^^^''  ^^"''  any  preparations 


334  PECULIAR. 

"  Yes,  a  few  bills  to  pay  and  a  few  letters  to  write." 

"  Can  you  despatch  all  your  work  by  quarter  to  nine  ?  " 

"  Sooner,  if  need  be." 

"  That  will  answer.  Have  your  baggage  ready,  and  let  it  be 
compact  as  possible.  I  '11  call  for  you  at  your  room  at  quarter 
to  nine.     Vance  goes  ^vith  us." 

"  Is  it  possible  ?     I  supposed  him  an  ultra  Secessionist." 

"  He  has  a  stronger  personal  cause  than  even  you  to  strike 
at  slavery." 

"  Can  that  be  ?  Well,  he  shall  find  me  no  tame  ally.  Do 
you  know,  Charles,  you  resemble  him  personally  ?  " 

"  Yes,  there  's  good  reason  for  it.     We  are  cousins." 

Onslow's  heart  was  too  full  to  comment  on  the  reply.  He 
took  up  the  strands  of  hair,  kissed  them  fervently,  and  placed 
them  with  his  father's  letter  in  a  little  silk  watch-bag,  which  he 
pinned  inside  of  his  vest  just  over  his  heart. 

"  If  ever  my  new  faith  should  falter,"  he  said,  "  here  are  ihe 
mementos  that  will  revive  it.  God  !  Did  I  need  all  this  for 
my  reformation  ?  " 

"  Be  firm,  —  be  prudent,  my  friend,"  said  Kenrick.  "  And 
now  good  by  till  we  meet  again." 

Onslow  pressed  Kenrick's  proffered  hand,  and  replied,  '*  You 
shall  find  me  punctual." 


THE  COMMITTEE  ADJOURNS.  335 


CHAPTER    XXXV. 

THE  COMMITTEE  ADJOURNS. 

•'  Why  now,  blow,  wind  ;  swell,  billow  ;  and  swim,  bark  ! 
The  storm  is  up,  and  all  is  on  the  hazard."  —  Shakspeare. 

VANCE'S  plan  was  to  escape  down  the  river  in  his  little 
steam-tug,  and  join  some  one  of  the  blockading  fleet  of 
the  United  States,  either  at  Pass  k  I'Outre  or  at  the  Balize. 
The  unexpected  accession  of  two  fellow-fugitives  led  him  to 
postpone  his  departure  from  the  St.  Charles  to  nine  o'clock. 
His  own  and  Kenrick's  baggage  had  been  providently  put  on 
board  the  Artful  Dodger  the  day  before.  Winslow,  in  order 
not  to  jeopard  any  of  the  proceedings,  had  accepted  Vance's 
offer  to  get  from  the  latter's  supply  whatever  articles  of  ap- 
parel he  might  need. 

At  ten  minutes  before  nine,  the  four  fugitives  met  in  Vance's 
room.  Vance  and  Onslow  grasped  each  other  by  the  hand. 
That  silent  pressure  conveyed  to  each  more  than  words  could 
ever  have  told.  The  sympathy  between  them  was  at  once  pro- 
found and  complete. 

"  The  negro  who  is  to  drive  us,"  said  Vance,  "  is  the  man 
to  whom  your  father  confided  his  last  messages." 

"  Ah  !  "  exclaimed  Onslow  ;  "  let  me  be  with  him.  Let  me 
learn  from  him  all  I  can!" 

Vance  told  him  he  should  ride  on  the  outside  with  Peek. 
Then  turning  to  Winslow,  he  said:  "Those  white  locks  of 
yours  are  somewhat  too  conspicuous.  Do  me  the  favor  to  hide 
them  under  this  black  wigc." 

The  disguise  was  promptly  carried  into  effect.  At  nine 
o'clock  Vance  put  his  head  out  of  the  window.  A  rain-storm 
had  set  in,  but  he  could  see  by  the  gas-lights  the  glistening  top 
of  a  carriage,  and  he  could  hear  the  stamping  of  horses. 

"  All  right,"  said  he.  "  Peek  is  punctually  on  the  spot. 
Does  that  carpet-bag  contain  all  your  baggage,  IVIr.  Onslow  ?  " 


iioQ  PECULIAR. 

"  Yes,  and  I  can  dispense  with  even  tliis,  if  you  desire  it." 

"  You  have  learnt  one  of  the  first  arts  of  the  soldier,  I  see," 
said  Vance.  "There  can  be  no  harm  in  your  taking  that 
amount.  Now  let  me  frankly  tell  you  what  I  conceive  to  be 
our  chief,  if  not  our  only  hazard.  My  venerable  friend,  here, 
Winslow,  was  compelled,  a  few  hours  since,  in  the  discharge  of 
his  duty,  to  give  very  dire  offence  to  Mr.  Carberry  Ratcliff,  of 
whom  we  all  have  heard.  Knowing  the  man  as  I  do,  I  am  of 
opinion  that  his  first  step  on  parting  with  our  friend  would  be 
to  put  spies  on  his  track,  with  the  view  of  preventing  his  de- 
parture or  concealment.  Mr.  Wini^low  thinks  Ratcliff  could 
not  have  had  time  to  do  this.  Perhaps  ;  but  there 's  a  chance 
my  venerable  friend  is  mistaken,  and  against  that  contingency 
I  wish  to  be  on  my  guard.  You  see  I  take  in  my  hand  this 
lasso,  and  tliis  small  cylindrical  piece  of  wood,  padded  with 
india-rubber  at  either  end.  Three  of  us,  I  presume,  have  re- 
volvers ;  but  I  hope  we  shall  have  no  present  use  for  them. 
You,  Mr.  Winslow,  will  go  first  and  enter  the  carriage  ;  Ken- 
rick  and  I  will  follow  at  ten  or  a  dozen  paces,  and  you,  Onslow, 
will  bring  up  the  rear.  In  your  soldier's  overcoat,  and  with 
your  carpet-bag,  it  will  be  supposed  you  are  merely  going  out 
to  pass  the  night  at  the  armory." 

While  this  conversation  was  going  on.  Peek  had  dismounted 
from  the  driver's  seat.  He  had  taken  the  precaution  to  cover 
both  the  horses  and  tlie  carriage  with  oil-cloth,  apparently  as  a 
protection  against  the  rain,  but  really  to  prevent  an  identifica- 
tion. No  sooner  had  his  feet  touched  the  side-walk,  than  a 
man  carrying  a  bludgeon  stepped  up  to  him  and  said,  "  Whose 
turn-out  have  you  here,  darkey  ?  " 

"  Dis  am  massa's  turn-out,  an'  nobody  else's,  sure,"  said 
Peek,  disguising  his  voice. 

"  Well,  who 's  massa  ?  " 

"  Massa 's  de  owner  ob  dis  cai'riage.  Thar,  yer  'v  got  it.  So 
dry  up,  ole  feller !  " 

The  inquirer  tried  to  roll  up  the  oil-cloth  to  get  a  sight  of 
the  panel.  Peek  interposed,  telling  him  to  stand  off.  The 
man  raised  his  bludgeon  and  threatened  to  strike.  Peek's  first 
impulse  was  to  disarm  him  and  choke  him  into  silence,  but, 
fearing  the  least  noise  might  bring  other  officers  to  the  spot, 


THE  COMAUTTEE  ADJOURNS.  337 

be  prudently  abstained.  Just  at  this  moment,  Winslow  issued 
from  the  side  door  of  the  hotel,  and  was  about  to  enter  the  car- 
riage, when  the  detective  who  had  succeeded  in  rolling  up  the 
covering  of  the  panel  till  he  could  see  the  coat-of-arms,  politely 
stopped  the  old  man,  and  begged  permission  to  look  at  him 
closely  by  the  gaslight,  remarking  that  he  had  orders  from 
head-quarters  to  arrest  a  certain  suspected  party. 

"  Pooh !  Everybody  in  New  Orleans  knows  me,"  said 
Winslow. 

"I  can't  help  that,  sir,"  said  the  detective,  laying  his  hand 
on  the  old  man's  shoulder,  "  I  must  insist  on  your  letting  —  " 

Before  the  speaker  could  finish  his  sentence,  his  arms  were 
pinioned  from  behind  by  a  lasso,  and  he  was  jerked  back  so  as 
to  lose  his  balance.  But  one  articulation  escaped  from  his  lips, 
and  that  was  half  smothered  in  his  throat.  "  0' Gorman  !  "  he 
cried,  calling  to  one  of  his  companions  ;  but  before  he  could 
repeat  the  cry,  a  gag  was  inserted  in  his  mouth,  and  he  was 
lifted  into  the  carriage  and  there  held  with  a  power  that  speed- 
ily taught  liim  how  useless  was  resistance. 

Kenrick  made  Peek  and  Onslow  acquainted,  and  these  two 
sprang  on  to  the  driver's  seat.  The  rest  of  the  party  took 
their  places  inside. 

"  Down  !  down  ! "  cried  Peek,  thrusting  Onslow  down  on 
his  knees  and  starting  the  horses.  The  next  moment  a  pistol 
was  discharged,  and  there  was  the  whiz  of  a  bullet  over  tlieir 
heads.  But  the  horses  had  now  found  out  what  wa-s  wanted  of 
them,  and  they  showed  their  blood  by  trotting  at  a  two-fifty 
speed  along  St.  Charles    Street. 

Peek  was  an  accomplished  driver.  That  very  afternoon  he 
had  learnt  where  the  steam- tug  lay,  and  had  gone  over  the 
route  in  order  to  be  sure  of  no  obstructions.  He  now  at  first 
took  a  direction  away  from  the  river  to  deceive  pursuit.  Then 
winding  through  several  obscure  streets,  he  came  upon  the 
avenue  running  parallel  with  the  Levee,  and  proceeded  for 
nearly  two  miles  till  he  drew  near  that  part  of  the  river  where 
the  Artful  Dodger,  with  steam  all  up,  was  moored  against  the 
extensive  embankment,  from  the  top  of  which  you  can  look 
down  on  the  floor  of  the  Crescent  City,  lying  several  feet 
below  tlie  river's  level. 

15  T 


338  PECULIAR. 

The  rain  continued  to  pour  furiously,  each  di'op  swelling  to 
the  size  of  a  big  arrow-head  before  reaching  tlie  earth.  It  was 
not  unusual  to  see  carriages  driven  at  great  speed  through  the 
streets  during  such  an  elementary  turmoil :  else  the  policemen 
or  soldiers  would  have  tried  to  stop  Peek  in  his  headlong 
career.  Probably  they  had  most  of  them  got  under  some  shel- 
ter, and  did  not  care  to  come  out  to  expose  themselves  to  a 
di-encliing.  On  and  on  rolled  the  carnage.  The  rain  seemed 
to  drown  all  noises,  so  that  the  occupants  could  not  tell  whether 
or  no  there  was  a  trampling  of  horses  in  pursuit. 

As  the  carriage  passed  on  to  a  macadamized  section  of  the 
road,  "  Tell  me,"  said  Onslow,  "  what  happened  after  my  father 
gave  you  the  letter  ?  " 

"  I  hardly  had  time  to  conceal  it,"  replied  Peek,  "  when  six 
of  the  niffians  entered  the  room,  and  I  was  ordered  out.  I 
pleaded  hard  to  stay,  but  't  was  no  use.  The  house  was  en- 
tirely surrounded-  by  ai-med  men,  ready  to  shoot  down  any  one 
attempting  to  escape.  Your  father  had  enjoined  it  upon  me 
that  I  should  leave  him  to  die  rather  than  myself  run  the  risk 
of  not  reaching  you  with  his  letter  and  his  messages." 

"  Did  he  ?  "  cried  Onslow.  "  Was  he,  then,  more  anxious 
that  I  should  know  all.  than  that  he  himself  should  escape  ?  " 

"  He  feared  life  more  than  death  after  wliat  had  happened," 
said  Peek.  '*  The  six  ruffians  tried  to  get  out  of  him  words  to 
implicate  certain  supposed  Union  men  in  the  neighborhood ; 
but  he  would  tell  no  secrets.  He  obstinately  resisted  their 
orders  and  thi-eats,  and  at  last  their  leader,  in  a  rage,  thrust 
his  sword  into  the  old  man's  lungs.  The  wound  did  not  imme- 
diately kill ;  but  the  loss  of  blood  seemed  likely  to  make  him 
faint.  Fearing  he  would  balk  them  in  their  last  revenge,  the 
niffians  dragged  him  out  to  a  tree  and  hung  him." 

"  Did  you  see  it  done  ?  " 

"  I  saw  him  the  moment  after  it  was  done.  I  had  been 
trying  to  satisfy  myself  that  there  was  no  life  in  your  mother's 
body ;  and  it  was  not  till  I  heard  the  shouts  of  the  crowd  that 
I  learnt  what  was  going  on  below.  I  ran  out,  but  your  father 
was  already  dead.  He  died,  I  learnt,  without  a  struggle,  much 
to  the  disappointment  of  the  Rebels." 

"  And  my  mother,"  asked  Onslow.    "  Was  there  any  hope  ?  " 


THE   COMMITTEE   ADJOURNS.  839 

"  None  whatever,  sir.     She  was  undoubtedly  dead." 

"  Peek,  you  have  a  claim  upon  me  henceforth.  At  present 
I  've  but  little  money  with  me,  but  what  I  have  you  must  take." 

"  Not  a  penny,  sir !  You  '11  need  it  more  than  I.  Mr.  Vance 
and  Mr.  Winslow  have  suppUed  me  with  ten  times  as  much  as 
I  shall  require." 

Onslow  said  no  more.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  felt 
that  a  negro  could  be  a  gentleman  and  his  equal. 

"  Peek,"  said  he,  "  you  may  refuse  my  money,  but  you  must 
not  refuse  my  friendship  and  respect.  Promise  me  you  will 
seek  me  if  I  can  ever  aid  you.  Nay,  promise  me  you  will  visit 
me  when  you  can." 

"  That  I  do  cheerfully,  sir.  Here  we  are  close  by  the 
steam-tug." 

Peek  pulled  up  the  horses,  and  he  and  Onslow  jumped  to 
the  ground.  The  door  was  opened,  and  those  inside  got  out. 
The  detective,  who  was  the  principal  man  of  his  order  in  New 
Orleans  (Myers  himself),  and  whose  mortification  at  being 
overreached  by  a  non-professional  person  was  extreme,  made 
a  desperate  effort  to  escape.  Vance  was  ready  for  it.  He 
simply  twisted  the  lasso  till  Myers  cried  out  with  pain  and 
promised  to  submit.  Then  pitching  him  on  board  the  steam- 
tug,  Vance  left  him  under  the  guard  of  Kenrick  and  the  Cap- 
tain. Winslow  followed  them  on  board ;  and  Vance,  turning 
to  Peek,  said  :  "  Now,  Peek,  drive  for  dear  life,  and  take  back 
your  horses.  Our  danger  is  almost  over;  but  yours  is  just 
beginning." 

"  Never  fear  for  me,  Mr.  Vance.  I  could  leave  the  horses 
and  run,  in  case  of  need.     Do  not  forget  the  telegraph  wii-es." 

«  Well  thought  of.  Peek  !     Farewell !  " 

They  interchanged  a  quick,  strong  grasp  of  the  hand,  and 
Peek  jumped  on  the  box  and  drove  off". 

Vance  saw  a  telegraph-pole  close  by,  the  wires  of  which 
communicated  with  the  forts  on  the  river  below.  Climbing  to 
the  top  of  it,  he  took  from  his  pocket  a  knife,  having  a  file  on 
one  of  its  blades,  and  in  half  a  minutQ  severed  the  wire,  then 
tied  it  by  a  string  to  the  pole  so  that  the  place  of  the  discon- 
nection might  not  be  at  once  discovered. 

The  next  moment  he  cast  off"  the  hawser  and  leaped  on 


340  PECULIAR. 

board  the  tug:.  Everything  was  in  readiness.  Qiptain  Pay- 
son  was  in  his  glory.  The  pipes  began  to  snort  steam,  the 
engines  to  move,  and  the  little  tug  st<iggered  otf  into  the  river. 
Hardly  were  they  ten  rods  from  the  levee,  however,  when  a 
can-iage  di'ove  up,  and  a  man  issued  from  it  who  ciied :  "  Boat 
ahoy  !  Stop  that  boat !  Every  man  of  you  shall  be  hung  if 
you  don't  stop  that  boat." 

Captain  Payson  took  up  his  speaking-trumpet,  and  replied : 
"  Come  and  stop  it  yourself,  you  blasted  bawler  ! " 

"  By  order  of  the  Confederate  authorities  I  call  on  you  to 
stop  that  boat,"  screamed  the  officer. 

''  The  Confederate  authorities  may  go  to  hell ! "  returned  old 
Payson. 

The  retort  of  the  officer  was  lost  in  the  mingled  uproar  of 
winds  and  waves. 

Confounded  at  the  steam-tug's  defiance,  the  officer,  O'Gor- 
man  by  name,  stood  for  a  minute  gesticulating  and  calling  out 
wildly,  and  then,  re-entering  the  carriage,  told  the  driver  to 
make  liis  best  speed  to  Number  17  Diana  Street. 

Let  us  precede  him  by  a  few  minutes  and  look  in  upon  the 
select  company  there  assembled.  In  a  stately  apartment  some 
dozen  of  the  piincipal  Confederate  managers  sat  in  conclave. 
Prominent  among  them  were  Ratcliff,  and  by  his  side  his  law- 
yer, Senimes,  an  attenuated  figure,  sharp-faced  and  eager-eyed. 
Complacent,  but  inwardly  cursing  the  Rebellion,  sat  Robson 
with  liis  little  puffiid  eyes  twinkling  through  gold-rimmed  si)ec- 
tacles,  and  his  fat  cheeks  indicating  good  cheer.  It  was  ^vith 
difficulty  he  could  repress  the  sarcasms  that  constantly  rose  to 
his  lips.  Wigman  and  Sanderson  were  of  the  company ;  and 
the  rest  of  the  members  were  nearly  all  earnest  Secessionists 
and  gentlemen  of  position. 

Eatclifif  had  communicated  his  grievances,  and  it  had  been 
decided  to  send  a  messenger  to  bring  Winslow  before  the  con- 
clave to  answer  certain  questions  as  to  his  disposition  of  the 
funds  confided  to  him  by  the  late  Mrs.  Ratcliflf.  The  messen- 
ger having  returned  once  AN-ith  the  information  that  TTinslow 
was  not  at  home,  had  been  sent  a  second  time  with  orders  to 
wait  for  him  till  ten  o'clock. 

It  had  been  also  resolved  to  summon  Charles  Kenrick  before 


THE  COMMITTEE  ADJOURNS.  341 

the  conclave,  and  an  officer  had  been  sent  to  the  hotel  for  that 
purpose. 

There  was  now  a  discussion  as  to  Vance.  Who  knew  him  ? 
No  one  intimately.  Several  had  a  mere  bowing  acquaintance 
with  him.  Ratcliff  could  not  remember  that  he  had  ever  seen 
him.  Had  Vance  contributed  to  the  cause  ?  Yes.  He  had 
paid  a  thousand  dollars  for  the  relief  of  the  suffering  at  the 
hospital.  Did  anybody  know  what  he  was  worth  ?  A  cotton- 
broker  present  knew  of  his  making  "  thirty  thousand  dollars 
clean"  in  one  operation  in  the  winter  of  1858.  Did  he  own 
any  real  estate  in  the  city  ?  His  name  was  not  down  in  the 
published  list  of  holders.  If  he  owned  any,  it  was  probably 
held  under  some  other  person's  name.  Among  tax-payers  he 
was  rated  at  only  fifty  thousand  dollars ;  but  he  might  have  an 
income  from  property  in  other  places,  perhaps  at  the  North, 
on  which  he  ought  to  pay  his  quota  in  this  hour  of  common 
danger.  It  was  decided  to  send  to  see  why  Vance  did  not 
come ;  and  a  third  officer  was  despatched  to  find  him. 

"  Does  any  one  know,"  asked  Semmes,  "  whether  Captain 
Onslow  has  yet  got  the  news  of  this  terrible  disaster  to  his 
family  in  Texas  ?  " 

"  The  intelligence  has  but  just  reached  us  at  head-quarters," 
replied  Mr.  Ferrand,  a  wealthy  Creole.  "  I  hope  it  will  not 
shake  the  Captain's  loyalty  to  the  good  cause." 

«  Why  should  it  ?  "  inquired  Ratcliffi 

"  He  must  be  a  spooney  to  let  it  make  any  diffi^rence,"  said 
Sanderson. 

"  Some  people  are  so  weak  and  prejudiced ! "  replied  Robson. 
"  Tell  them  the  good  of  the  institution  requires  that  their  whole 
family  should  be  disembowelled,  and  they  can't  see  it.  Tell 
them  that  though  their  sister  was  outraged,  yet  't  was  in  the 
holy  cause  of  slavery,  and  it  does  n't  satisfy  'em.  Such  sordid 
souls,  incapable  of  grand  sacrifices,  are  too  common." 

"  That 's  a  fact,"  responded  George  Sanderson,  who  was  get- 
ting thirsty,  and  adhered  to  Robson  as  to  the  genius  of  good 
liquor. 

"  Old  Onslow  deserved  his  fate,"  said  Mr.  Curry,  a  fiery  little 
man,  resembling  Vice-President  Stephens. 

"  To  be  sure  he  deserved  it ! "  returned  Robson.     "  And  so 


342  PECULIAR. 

did  that  heretical  young  girl,  his  daughter,  deserve  hers.  "Why, 
it's  asserted,  on'good  authority,  that  she  had  been  heard  to  re- 
peat Patrick  Henry's  remai'k,  that  slavery  is  inconsistent  with 
the  Christian  religion  ! " 

Mr.  Polk,  who,  being  related  to  a  bishop,  thought  it  was 
incumbent  on  him  to  rebuke  extreme  sentiments,  here  mildly 
remarked  :  ''  We  do  not  make  war  on  young  girls  and  women. 
I  'm  sorry  our  friends  in  Texas  should  resort  to  such  violent 
practices." 

"  -Let  us  have  no  half-way  measures  ! "  exclaimed  Robson. 
"  We  can't  check  feminine  treason  by  sprinkling  rose-water." 

"  The  rankest  Abolitionists  are  among  the  women,"  inter- 
posed Ratcliff. 

"  No  doubt  of  it,"  replied  Robson.  "  Or  if  a  woman  is  n't  an 
Abolitionist  herself,  she  may  become  the  mother  of  one.  An 
ounce  of  precaution  is  worth  a  pound  of  cure." 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Polk,  "  I  base  my  support  of  slavery 
on  evangeh'cal  principles,  and  they  teach  me  to  look  upon  rape 
and  murder  as  crimes." 

"  It  will  do  very  well  for  you  and  the  bishops,"  replied  Rob- 
son, "  to  tell  the  hoi  polloi,  —  the  people,  —  that  slavery  is 
evangelical ;  but  here  in  this  snug  little  coterie,  we  must  n't 
try  to  fool  each  other,  —  't  would  n't  be  civil.  We  '11  take  it 
for  granted  there  are  no  greenhorns  among  us.  We  can  there- 
fore afford  to  speak  plainly.  Slavery  is  based  on  the  principle 
that  might  makes  rights  and  on  no  other." 

"  That 's  the  talk,"  said  Ratcliff. 

"  That  being  the  talk,"  continued  Robson,  "  let  us  face  the 
music  without  dodging.  The  object  of  this  war  is  to  make 
the  slaveholding  interest,  more  than  it  has  ever  been  before, 
the  ruling  interest  of  America ;  to  propagate,  extend,  and  at 
the  same  time  consolidate  slavery  ;  to  take  away  all  governing 
power  from  the  people  and  vest  it  in  the  hands  of  a  committee 
of  slaveholders,  who  will  regard  the  wealth  and  power  of  their 
order  as  paramount  to  all  other  considerations  and  laws,  hu- 
man or  divine.  I  presume  there  's  nobody  here  who  will  deny 
this." 

"  Is  it  quite  prudent  to  make  such  declarations  ?  "  asked  Mr. 
Polk,  in  a  deprecatory  tone. 


THE  COMMITTEE  ADJOURNS.  343 

"  Is  there  any  one  here,  sir,  you  want  to  hoodwink  ? "  re- 
turned Robson. 

"  O  no,  no ! "  replied  Mr.  Polk.  "  I  presume  we  are  all 
qualified  to  understand  the  esoteric  meaning  of  the  Rebellion." 

"  It  is  no  longer  esoteric,"  said  Robson.  "  The  doctrine  is 
openly  proclaimed.  What  says  Spratt  of  South  Carolina? 
What  says  Toombs?  What  De  Bow,  Fitzhugh,  Grayson, 
the  Richmond  papers,  Trescott,  Cobb?  They  are  openly  in 
favor  of  an  aristocracy,  and  against  popular  rights." 

Before  any  reply  was  made,  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door, 
and  Ratcliff  was  called  out.  In  three  minutes  he  returned,  his 
face  distorted  with  anger  and  excitement.  "  Gentlemen,"  said 
he,  "  we  are  the  victims  of  an  infernal  Yankee  trick.  I  have 
reason  to  believe  that  Winslow,  aided  perhaps  by  other  sus- 
pected parties,  has  made  his  escape  this  very  night  in  a  little 
steam-tug  that  has  been  lying  for  some  days  in  the  river,  ready 
for  a  start." 

"  Wliich  way  has  it  gone  ?  "  asked  Semmes. 

"  Down  the  river.     Probably  to  Pass  a  TOutre." 

"  Telegraph  to  the  forts  to  intercept  her,"  said  Semmes. 

"  A  good  idea ! "  exclaimed  Ratcliff.  "  I  'd  do  it  at  once." 
He  joined  O' Gorman  outside,  and  the  next  moment  a  carriage 
was  heard  rolling  over  the  pavements. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Robson,  "  if  we  expect  to  see  any  of  the 
parties  we  have  summoned  here  to-night,  there  is  something  so 
touching  and  amiable  in  our  credulity  that  I  grieve  to  harshly 
dispel  it.  But  let  me  say  that  Mr.  Kenrick  would  see  us  all 
in  the  profoundest  depths  before  he  would  put  himself  in  our 
power  or  acknowledge  our  jurisdiction ;  Mr.  Vance  can  keep 
his  own  counsel  and  will  not  brook  dictation,  or  I  'm  no  judo-e 
of  physiognomy ;  Captain  Onslow  has  a  foolish  sensitiveness 
which  leads  him  to  resent  murder  and  outrage  when  practised 
against  his  own  family ;  and  as  for  old  Winslow,  he  has  n't 
lived  seventy  years  not  to  know  better  than  to  place  himself 
within  reach  of  a  tiger's  claws.  I  think  we  may  as  well  ad- 
journ, and  muse  over  the  mutability  of  human  affairs." 

Before  Robson's  proposition  was  carried  into  effect,  an 
errand-boy  from  the  telegraph-ofiice  brought  Semmes  this 
letter :  — 


344  PECULIAR. 

"  The  scoundrels  have  cut  the  telegraph  wires,  and  we  can't 
communicate  witli  tlie  forts.  I  leave  here  at  once  to  engage  a 
boat  for  the  pursuit.  Shall  go  in  her  myself.  You  must  do 
this  one  thing  for  me  Adtliout  fail:  Take  up  your  abode  at 
once,  this  veiy  night,  in  my  house,  and  stay  there  till  I  come 
back.  Use  every  possible  precaution  to  prevent  another  es- 
cape of  that  young  person  of  wlioin  I  spoke  to  you.  Do  not 
let  her  move  a  step  out  of  dooi-s  without  you  or  your  agents 
know  precisely  where  she  is.  I  shall  liold  you  responsible  for 
her  security.  I  may  not  be  back  for  a  day  or  two,  in  which 
case  you  must  have  my  wife's  interaient  properly  attended  to. 
"  Yours,  Ratcliff." 

"  1  agree  Anth  Mr.  Robson,"  said  Semmes,  "  that  we  may  as 
well  adjourn.  The  telegraph  wires  are  cut,  and  I  should  not 
wonder  if  all  the  summoned  pai'ties  were  among  the  fugitives. 
Ratcliff  pursues." 

The  select  assemblage  broke  up,  and  above  the  curses,  freely 
uttered,  rang  the  sardonic  laugh  of  Robson.  "  Two  to  one  that 
Ratcliff  does  n't  catch  them  ! "  said  he  ;  but  no  one  took, up  the 
bet,  though  it  should  be  remembered,  in  defence  of  Wigman 
and  Sanderson,  that  they  were  too  busy  in  the  Kquor-closet  to 
heed  the  offer. 

"  Ah  !  my  pious  friends,  —  still  at  it,  I  see  ! "  exclaimed 
Robson,  coming  in  upon  them.  "  You  remind  me  of  a  French 
hymn  I  learnt  in  my  youth : 

'  Tous  les  m^chants  sont  buveurs  d'eau ; 
C'est  bien  prouv^  par  le  deluge ! ' 

Which,  for  Sanderson's  benefit,  I  will  translate  : 

*  Who  are  the  wicked  ?     Why,  water-drinkers ! 
The  deluge  proves  it  to  all  right  thinkers.'  " 

Leaving  the  trio  over  their  cups,  let  us  follow  the  enraged 
Ratcliff  in  his  adventures  subsequent  to  his  letter  to  Semmes. 

The  Rebel  was  a  boat  anned  with  a  one-hundred-pound  ritied 
gun,  and  used  for  occasional  reconnoitring  expeditions  down 
the  river.  Ratcliff  had  no  difficulty  in  inducing  the  captain  to 
put  her  on  the  chase ;  but  an  hour  was  spent  hunting  up  the 
engineer  and  getting  ready.  At  last  the  Rebel  was  started  in 
pursuit.  The  rain  had  ceased,  and  the  moon,  bursting  occa- 
sionally from  dark  drifting  clouds,  shed  a  fitful  light.  Ratcliff 
paced  the  deck,  smoking  cigars,  and  nursing  his  rage. 


THE   COMMITTEE  ADJOURNS.  345 

It  was  nearly  sunrise  before  they  reached  Forts  Jackson  and 
St.  Philip,  thirty-three  miles  above  the  Balize.  Nothing  could 
yet  be  seen  of  the  steam-tug ;  but  there  was  a  telltale  pillar 
of  smoke  in  the  distance.  "  We  shall  have  her !  "  said  Rat- 
cliff,  exultingly. 

Following  in  the  trail  of  the  Rebel  were  numerous  sea-gulls 
whom  the  storm  had  driven  up  the  river.  The  boat  now  en- 
tered that  long  canal-like  section  where  the  great  river  flows 
between  narrow  banks,  which,  including  the  swamps  behind 
them,  are  each  not  more  than  two  or  three  hundred  yards 
wide,  running  out  into  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  Here  and  there 
among  the  dead  reeds  and  scattered  willows  a  tall  white  crane 
might  be  seen  feeding.  Over  these  naiTow  fringes  of  swampy 
land  you  could  see  the  dark-green  waters  of  the  Gulf  just  be- 
ginning to  be  incarnadined  by  the  rising  sun.  With  the  salt- 
water so  near  on  either  side  that  you  could  shoot  an  arrow  into 
it,  you  saw  the  river  holding  its  way  through  the  same  deep, 
unbroken  channel,  keeping  unmixed  its  powerful  body  of  fresh 
water,  except  when  hurricanes  sweep  the  briny  spray  over 
these  long  ribbons  of  land  into  the  IVIississippi. 

Vance  had  abandoned  his  original  intention  of  trying  the 
Pass  a  rOutre.  Having  learned  from  a  pilot  that  the.  Brook- 
lyn, carrying  the  Stars  and  Stripes,  was  cruising  off  the  South- 
west Pass,  he  resolved  to  steer  in  that  direction.  But  when 
within  five  miles  of  the  head  of  the  Passes,  one  of  those  capri- 
cious fogs,  not  uncommon  on  the  river,  came  do^vn,  shrouding 
the  banks  on  either  side.  The  Ai^tful  Dodger  crept  along  at 
an  abated  speed  thi-ough  the  sticky  vapor.  Soon  the  throb  of 
a  steamer  close  in  the  rear  could  be  distinctly  heard.  The 
Artful  had  but  one  gun,  and  that  was  a  5-inch  rifled  one  ;  but 
it  could  be  run  out  over  her  after  bulwarks. 

All  at  once  the  fog  lifted,  and  the  svm  came  out  sharp  and 
dazzling,  scattering  the  white  banks  of  vapor.  The  Rebel 
might  be  seen  not  a  third  of  a  mile  off.  A  shot  came  from  her 
as  a  signal  to  the  Artful  to  heave  to.  Vance  ordered  the  Stars 
and  Stripes  to  be  run  up,  and  the  engines  to  be  reversed.  The 
Rebel,  as  if  astounded  at  the  audacity  of  the  act  on  the  part 
of  her  contemptible  adversary,  swayed  a  little  in  the  current 
so  as  to  present  a  good  part  of  her  side.  Vance  saw  his  oppor- 
15* 


3-16  PECULIAR. 

tunity,  and,  vdih  the  quickness  of  one  accustomed  to  dead- 
shots,  decided  on  his  range.  The  next  moment,  and  before  the 
Rebel  could  recover  herself,  he  fired,  the  shock  racking  every 
joint  in  the  little  tug-. 

The  effect  of  the  shot  was  speedily  visible  and  audible  in 
the  issuing  of  steam  and  in  cries  of  suffeiing  on  board  the 
Rebel.  The  boiler  had  been  hit,  and  she  was  helpless.  Vance 
fired  a  second  shot,  but  this  time  over  her,  as  a  summons  for 
surrender.  The  confederate  flag  at  once  disappeared.  The 
next  moment  a  small  boat,  containing  half  a  dozen  pei-sons, 
put  out  from  the  Rebel  as  if  they  intended  to  gain  the  bank 
and  escape  among  the  low  willows  and  dead  reeds  of  the 
marshy  deposits.  But  before  this  could  be  done,  two  cutters 
beaiing  United  States  flags,  were  seen  to  issue  from  a  diminu- 
tive bayou  in  the  neighborhood,  and  intercept  the  boat,  which 
was  taken  in  tow  by  the  larger  cutter.  The  Artful  Dodger 
then  steamed  up  to  the  disabled  Rebel  and  took  possession. 

At  the  mouth  of  the  Southwest  Pass  they  met  the  Brooklyn. 
Vance  went  on  board,  found  in  the  Commodore  an  old  acquaint- 
ance, and  after  recounting  the  adventures  of  the  last  twelve 
hours,  gave  up  the  two  steamers  for  government  use.  It  was 
then  arranged  that  he  and  his  companions  should  take  passage 
on  boai-d  the  store-ship  Catawba,  which  was  to  sail  for  New 
York  \\dthin  the  hour ;  while  all  the  persons  captured  on  board 
the  Rebel,  together  with  the  detective  carried  off  by  Vance, 
should  be  detained  as  prisoners  and  sent  North  in  an  armed 
steamer,  to  leave  the  next  day. 

"  There  's  one  man,"  said  Vance,  —  "  his  name  is  Ratcliff,  — 
who  will  try  by  all  possible  arts  and  pleadings  to  get  away. 
Hold  on  to  him,  Commodore,  as  you  would  to  a  detected  incen- 
diary. 'Tis  all  the  requital  I  ask  for  my  little  present  to 
Uncle  Sam." 

"He  shall  be  safe  in  Fort  Lafayette  before  the  month  is 
out,"  replied  the  Commodore.  "  I  'U  take  your  word  for  it, 
Vance,  that  he  is  n't  to  be  trusted." 

"  One  word  more.  Commodore.  My  crew  on  board  the  little 
tug  are  all  good  men  and  true.  Old  Skipper  Payson,  whom 
you  see  yonder,  goes  into  tliis  fight,  not  for  wages,  but  for  love. 
He  has  but  one  fault ! " 


THE   COMMITTEE  ADJOURNS.  3i7 

"  What 's  that  ?     Drinks,  I  suppose !  " 
"  No.     He  's  a  terrible  Abolitionist." 

"  So  much  the  better !  We  shall  all  be  Abolitionists  before 
this  war  is  ended.     'T  is  the  only  way  to  end  it." 

"  Good,  my  Commodore !      Such  sentiments  from  men  in 
your  position  will  do  as  much  as  rifled  cannon  for  the  cause." 
''  More,  ]Mi\  Vance,  more !  And  now  duty  calls  me  off.   Your 
men,  sii-,  shall  be  provided  for.     Good  by." 

Vance  and  the  Commodore  shook  hands  and  parted.  Vance 
was  rowed  back  to  the  Ai-tful  Dodger.  On  his  way,  looking 
through  his  opera-glass,  he  could  see  Ratcliff  in  the  cutter, 
gnawing  his  rage,  and  looking  the  incarnation  of  chagrin. 

The  Catawba  was  making  her  toilet  ready  for  a  start.  She 
,lay  at  a  short  distance  from  the  Artful.  Vance,  Winslow,  Ken- 
rick,  and  Onslow  went  on  board,  where  the  orders  of  the  Com- 
modore had  secured  for  them  excellent  accommodations.  Before 
noon  a  northeasterly  breeze  had  sprung  up,  and  they  took  their 
leave  of  the  mouths  of  the  Mississippi. 

Ratcliff  no  sooner  touched  the  deck  of  the  Brooklyn,  than, 
conquering  with  an  effort  his  haughtiness,  he  took  off  his  hat, 
and,  approaching  the  Commodore,  asked  for  an  interview. 

The  Conunodore  was  an  old  weather-beaten  sailor,  not  far 
from  his  tlireescore  and  ten  years.  He  kept  no  "  circumlocu- 
tion office  "  on  board  his  ship,  and  as  he  valued  his  time,  he 
could  not  tolerate  any  tortuous  delays  in  coming  to  the  point. 

"  Commodore,"  said  RatcHff,  "  'tis  important  I  should  have  a 
few  words  with  you  immediately." 
"  Well,  sir,  be  quick  about  it." 
"  Commodore,  I  have  long  known  you  by  reputation  as  a 

man  of  honor.     I  have  often  heard  Commodore  Tatnall " 

"  The  damned  old  traitor !  Well  sir  ?  " 
"  I  beg  pardon  ;  I  supposed  you  and  Tatnall  were  intimate." 
"  So  we  were  !  Loved  him  once  as  my  own  brother.  He 
and  I  and  Percival  have  had  many  a  jolly  time  together.  But 
now,  damn  him  !  The  man  who  could  trample  on  the  old  flag 
that  had  protected  and  honored  and  enriched  him  all  his  life 
is  no  better  than  a  beast.  So  danm  him !  Don't  let  me  hear 
his  name  again." 

"I  beg  pardon.  Commodore.  As  I  was  saying,  we  know 
you  to  be  a  gentleman  — " 


348  PECULIAK. 

"  Stop !    I  'm  an  officer  in  the  United  States  service.    That 's 
the  only  capacity  I  shall  allow  you  to  address  me  in.     Your 
salvy  compliments  make  me  sick.     "Wliat  do  you  ^yTmt  ?  " 
"  It 's  necessary  I  should  return  at  once  to  New  Orleans." 
"  Indeed  !     How  do  you  propose  to  get  there  ?  " 
"  When  you  hear  my  story,  you  11  give  me  the  facilities." 
"  Don't  flatter  youi-self.     I  shall  do  no  such  thing." 
"  But,  Commodore,  I  came  out  in  pursuit  of  an  unfaithful 
agent,  who  was  running  off  with  my  property." 

"  Hark  you,  sir,  when  you  speak  in  those  terms  of  Simon 
Winslow,  you  lie,  and  deserve  the  cat." 

Ratcliff  gi'ew  purple  in  the  struggle  to  suppress  an  outburst 
of  ^vl'ath.  But,  after  nearly  a  mmute  of  silence,  he  said : 
"  Commodore,  my  wife  died  only  a  few  hours  ago.  Her  un- 
buried  remains  lie  in  my  house.  Surely  you  '11  let  me  return 
to  attend  her  funeral.  You  '11  not  be  so  cruel  as  to  refuse  me." 
"  Pah !  Does  youi'  dead  wife  need  youi'  care  any  more  than 
my  live  wife  needs  mine  ?  '*T  is  your  infernal  treason  keeps  me 
here.  Can  you  count  the  broken  hearts  and  ruined  constitu- 
tions you  have  already  made,  —  the  thousands  you  have  sent 
to  untimely  graves,  —  in  this  attempt  to  carry  out  your  beastly 
nigger-breeding,  slavery-spreading  speculation  ?  And  now  you 
presume  to  whine  because  I  '11  not  let  you  slip  back  to  hatch 
more  treason,  under  the  pretence  that  you  want  to  go  to  a  fmi- 
eral !  As  if  you  had  n't  made  funerals  enough  ali-eady  in  the 
land !  Curse  your  impudence,  sir  !  Be  thankful  I  don't  string 
you  up  to  the  yard-ai'm.  Here,  jSIr.  Buttons,  see  that  this  fellow 
is  placed  among  the  prisoners  and  strictly  guarded.  I  hold  you 
responsible  for  him,  sir  !  " 

The  Commodore  turned  on  his  heel  and  left  Ratcliff  panting 
with  an  intolerable  fury  that  he  dared  not  vent.  Big  drops  of 
perspiration  came  out  on  his  face.  The  Midshipman,  plaj-fully 
addressed  as  ]Mi\  Buttons,  was  a  very  stern-looking  gentleman, 
of  the  name  of  Adams,  who  wore  on  his  coat  a  very  conspicu- 
ous row  of  buttons,  and  whose  fourteenth  birthday  had  been 
celebrated  one  week  before.  Motioning  to  Ratcliff,  and  frown- 
ing imperiously,  he  stamped  his  foot  and  exclaimed,  "  Follow 
me  : "  The  slave-lord,  with  an  internal  half-smothered  groan 
of  rage  and  despair,  saw  that  there  was  no  help,  and  obeyed. 


TflE  OCCUPANT   OF  THE  WHITE  HOUSE.  349 


CHAPTER    XXXVI. 

THE  OCCUPANT  OF  THE  WHITE  HOUSE. 

"  They  forbore  to  break  the  chain 
Which  bound  the  dusky  tribe, 
Checked  by  the  owner's  fierce  disdain, 

Lured  by  '  Union '  as  the  bribe. 
Destiny  sat  by  and  said, 

'  Pang  for  pang  your  seed  shall  pay  ; 
Hide  in  false  peace  your  coward  head,  — 
I  bring  round  the  harvest-day.'  " 

R.  W.  Emerson. 

IN  one  of  the  smaller  parlors  of  the  White  House  in  Wash- 
ington sat  two  men  of  rather  marked  appearance.  One  of 
them  sat  leaning  back  in  his  tipped  chair,  with  his  thumbs  in 
the  arm-holes  of  his  vest,  and  his  right  ancle  resting  on  his 
left  knee.  His  figure,  though  now  flaccid  and  relaxed,  would 
evidently  be  a  tall  one  if  pulled  out  like  the  sliding  joints  of 
a  spy-glass  ;  but  gaunt,  lean,  and  ungainly,  with  harsh  angles 
and  stooping  shoulders.  He  was  dressed  in  a  suit  of  black, 
with  a  black  satin  vest,  and  round  his  neck  a  black  silk  ker- 
chief tied  carelessly  in  a  knot,  and  passing  under  a  shirt-collar 
turned  down  and  revealing  a  neck  brawny,  sinewy,  and  tanned. 

The  face  that  belonged  to  this  figure  was  in  keeping  with  it, 
and  yet  attractive  from  a  certain  charm  of  expression.  Nose 
prominent  and  assertive  ;  cheek-bones  rather  obtrusive,  and 
under  them  the  flesh  sallow  and  browned,  though  partially  cov- 
ered by  thick  bristling  black  whiskers ;  eyes  dark  and  deeply 
set ;  mouth  and  lips  large  ;  and  crowning  all  these  features  a 
shock  of  stiff  profuse  black  hair  carelessly  put  aside  from  his 
irregularly  developed  forehead,  as  if  by  no  other  comb  than 
that  which  he  could  make  of  his  long  lank  fingers. 

This  man  was  not  only  the  foremost  citizen  of  the  RepubKc, 
officially  considered,  but  he  had  a  reputation,  exaggerated  be- 
yond his  deserts,  for  homeliness.  By  the  Rebel  press  he  was 
frequently  spoken  of  as  "  the  ape "  or  the  "  gorilla."     From 


350  PECULIAR. 

the  rowdy  George  Sanderson  to  the  stiff,  if  not  stately  Jeffer- 
son Davis  (himself  far  from  being  an  Adonis),  the  pro-slavery 
champions  took  a  harmless  satisfaction,  in  their  public  addresses, 
in  alluding,  in  some  contemptuous  epithet,  to  the  man's  personal 
shortcomings.  So  far  from  being  disturbed,  the  object  of  all 
these  revilings  would  himself  sometimes  playfully  refer  to  his 
personal  attractions,  unconscious  how  much  there  was  in  that 
face  to  redeem  it  from  being  truly  characterized  either  as  ugly 
>r  commonplace. 

As  he  sat  now,  with  eyes  bent  on  vacancy,  and  his  mind 
revolving  the  arguments  or  facts  which  had  been  presented  by 
his  visitor,  his  countenance  assumed  an  expression  which  was 
pathetic  in  its  indication  of  sincere  and  patient  effort  to  grasp 
the  truth  and  see  clearly  the  way  before  liim.  The  expression 
redeemed  the  whole  countenance,  for  it  was  almost  tender  in 
its  anxious  yet  resigned  thoughtfulness  ;  in  its  profomid  sense 
of  the  enormous  and  unparalleled  responsibilities  resting  on 
that  one  brain,  perplexing  it  in  the  extreme. 

The  other  pai'ty  to  the  interview  was  a  man  w  hose  personal 
appearance  was  in  marked  contrast.  Although  he  had  num- 
bered in  his  life  nearly  as  many  years  as  the  President,  he 
looked  some  ten  years  younger.  His  figure  was  strikingly 
handsome,  compact,  and  gi-aceful ;  and  his  clothes  were  nicely 
adapted  to  it,  both  in  color  and  cut.  Every  feature  of  his  face 
was  finely  outlined  and  proportioned ;  and  the  whole  expres- 
sion indicated  at  once  refinement  and  energy,  habits  of  intel- 
lectual culture  and  of  robust  physical  exercise  and  endurance. 
This  man  was  he  who  has  passed  so  long  in  this  story  under 
the  adopted  name  of  Vance. 

There  had  been  silence  between  the  two  for  nearly  a  minute. 
Suddenly  the  President  turned  his  mild  dark  eyes  on  his  vis- 
itor, and  said :  "  Well,  sir,  what  would  you  have  me  do  ?  " 

"  I  would  have  you  lead  public  opinion,  ]Mr.  President,  instead 
of  waiting  for  public  opinion  to  lead  you." 

"  Make  this  allowance  for  me,  Mr.  Vance  :  I  have  many 
conflicting  interests  to  reconcile  ;  many  conflicting  facts  and 
assertions  to  sift  and  weigh.  Remember  I  am  bound  to  listen, 
not  merely  to  the  men  of  New  England,  but  to  those  of  Ken- 
tucky, Maryland,  and  Eastern  Tennessee." 


THE  OCCUPANT   OF  THE  WHITE  HOUSE.  351 

"  Mr.  President,  jou  are  bound  to  listen  to  no  man  who  is 
not  ready  to  say,  Do"svn  with  slavery  if  it  stands  in  the  way  of 
the  Republic !  You  should  at  once .  infuse  into  every  branch 
of  the  public  service  this  determination  to  tear  up  the  bitter 
root  of  all  our  woes.  Why  not  give  me  the  necessary  authority 
to  raise  a  black  regiment  ?  " 

"  Impossible !  The  public  are  not  lipe  for  any  such  extreme 
measure." 

"  There  it  is !  You  mean  that  the  public  shall  be  the 
responsible  President  instead  of  Abraham  Lincoln.  O,  sir, 
knowing  you  are  on  the  side  of  right,  have  faith  in  your  own 
power  to  mould  and  quicken  public  opinion.  When  last  Au- 
gust in  Missouri,  Fremont  declared  the  slaves  of  Rebels  free, 
one  word  of  approval  from  you  would  have  won  the  assent  of 
every  loyal  man.  But,  instead  of  believing  in  the  inherent 
force  of  a  great  idea  to  work  its  own  way,  you  were  biased  by 
the  semi-loyal  men  who  were  lobbying  for  slavery,  and  you 
countermanded  the  righteous  order,  thus  throwing  us  back  a 
whole  year.     Do  I  give  offence  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,  speak  your  mind  freely.     I  love  sincerity." 

"  We  know  very  well,  Mr.  President,  that  you  will  do  what 
is  right  eventually.  But  0,  why  not  do  it  at  once,  and  fore- 
stall the  issue  ?  We  know  that  you  will  one  of  these  days 
remove  Buell  and  other  generals,  the  singleness  of  whose  de- 
votion to  the  Union  as  against  slavery  is  at  least  questionable. 
We  know  that  you  will  put  an  end  to  the  atrocious  pro-slavery 
favoritism  of  many  of  our  officers.  We  know  you  will  issue  a 
proclamation  of  emancipation." 

"  I  think  not,  Mr.  Vance."  * 

"  Pardon  me,  you  will  do  it  before  next  October.  You  will 
do  it  because  the  pressure  of  an  advanced  public  opinion  will 
force  you  to  do  it,  and  because  God  Almighty  will  interpose 
checks  and  defeats  to  our  arms  in  order  that  we  of  the  North 
may,  in  the  fermentation  of  ideas,  throw  off  this  foul  scum, 
redolent  of  the  bottomless  pit,  which  apathy  or  sympathy  in 
regard  to  slavery  engenders.  Yes,  you  will  give  us  an  eman- 
cipation proclamation,  and  then  you  will  give  us  permission  to 
raise  black  regiments,  and  then,  after  being  pricked,  and  urged, 
and  pricked  again,  by  public  opinion,  you  will  offset  the  Rebel 


352  PECULIAB. 

threats  of  massacre  by  issuing  a  war  bulletin  declaring  that 
the  United  States  will  protect  her  fighting  men  of  whatever 
color,  and  that  there  must  be  life  for  lite  for  every  black  soldier 
killed  in  violation  of  the  laws  of  war." 

"  But  are  you  a  prophet,  Mr.  Vance  ?  " 

"  It  requires  no  gift  of  prophecy,  Mr.  President,  to  foretell 
these  things.  It  needs  but  full  fiiith  in  the  operation  of  Divine 
laws  to  anticipate  all  that  I  have  prefigured.  You  refuse  now 
to  let  me  raise  a  black  regiment.  In  less  than  ten  months  you 
will  give  me  a  carte  hlanche  to  enlist  as  many  negroes  as  I  can 
for  the  war." 

'•  Perhaps,  —  but  I  don't  see  my  Avay  clear  to  do  it  yet." 

"  A  great  man,"  said  Vance,  "  ought  to  lead  and  fashion 
public  opinion  in  stupendous  emergencies  like  this,  —  ought  to 
throw  himself  boldly  on  some  great  principle  having  its  root  in 
eternal  justice,  —  ought  to  grapple  it,  cling  to  it,  stake  every- 
thing upon  it,  and  make  everything  give  way  to  it." 

"  But  I  am  not  a  great  man,  Mr.  Vance,"  said  the  President, 
with  unaffected  naivete. 

"  I  believe  your  intentions  are  good  and  great,  ]Mr.  Presi- 
dent." was  the  reply ;  "  for  what  you  supremely  desire  is,  to  do 
your  duty." 

"  Yes,  I  claim  that  much.     Thank  you." 

"  Well,  your  duty  is  to  take  the  most  energetic  measures  for 
conquering  a  peace.  Under  the  Constitution,  the  war  power  is 
conunitted  to  your  hands.  That  power  is  not  defined  by  the 
Constitution,  for  it  is  imprescriptible ;  regulated  by  interna- 
tional usage.  That  usage  authorizes  you  to  free  the  slaves  of 
an  enemy.     Why  not  do  it  ?  " 

"  Would  not  a  proclamation  of  emancipation  from  Abraham 
Lincoln  be  much  like  the  Pope's  bull  against  the  comet  ?  " 

'•  There  is  this  difference :  in  the  latter  case,  the  fulmination 
is  against  what  we  have  no  reason  to  suppose  is  an  evil ;  in  the 
former,  case,  you  would  attack  with  moral  weapons  what  you 
know  to  be  a  wrong  and  an  injustice  immediately  under  your 
eyes  and  within  your  reach.  If  it  could  be  proved  that  the 
comet  is  an  evil,  the  Pope's  bull  would  not  seem  to  me  an  ab- 
surdity ;  for  I  have  faith  in  the  operation  of  ideas,  and  in  the 
triumph  of  truth  and  good  throughout  the  universe.     But  the 


THE  OCCUPANT   OF  THE  WHITE  HOUSE.  353 

emancipation  proclamation  would  not  be  futile  ;  for  it  would 
give  body  and  impulse  to  an  idea,  and  that  idea  one  friendly 
to  riglit  and  to  progress." 

The  PrCv^ident  rose,  and,  walking  to  the  window,  drummed  a 
moment  with  Iiis  fingers  abstractedly  on  the  glass,  then,  return- 
ing to  his  chair,  reseated  himself  and  said :  "  As  Chief  Magis- 
trate of  the  Republic,  my  fii'st  duty  is  to  save  it.  If  I  can  best 
do  that  by  tolerating  slavery,  slavery  shall  be  tolerated.  If  I 
can  best  do  it  by  abolishing  slavery,  you  may  be  sure  I  will  try 
to  abolish  it.  But  I  must  n't  be  biased  by  my  feelings  or  my 
sentiments." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  asked  Vance.  "  Do  not  all  great  moral  truths 
originate  in  the  feelings  and  the  sentiments  ?  The  heart's 
policy  is  often  the  safest.  Is  not  cruelty  wrong  because  the 
heart  proclaims  it  ?  Is  not  despotism  to  be  opposed  because 
the  heart  detests  it?" 

"  ]Mr.  Vance,  you  eager  philanthropists  little  know  how  hard 
it  often  is  for  less  impulsive  and  more  conservative  men  to 
withstand  the  urgency  of  those  feelings  that  you  give  way  to 
at  once.  But  you  have  read  history  to  little  purpose  if  you  do 
not  know  that  the  best  cause  may  be  jeoparded  by  the  prema- 
ture and  too  radical  movements  of  its  friends.  I  have  been 
blamed  for  listening  to  the  comisels  of  Kentucky  politicians 
and  Missouri  conservatives  ;  and  yet  if  we  had  not  held  back 
Kentucky  from  the  secession  madness,  she  might  have  contrib- 
uted the  straw  that  would  have  broken  the  camel's  back." 

"  0  Kentucky ! "  exclaimed  Vance,  "  I  know  thy  works, 
that  tliou  art  neither  cold  nor  hot.  I  would  thou  wert  cold  or 
hot.  So  then,  because  thou  art  lukewann,  and  neither  cold  nor 
hot,  I  will  spue  thee  out  of  my  mouth !  Mr.  President,  the 
ruling  powers  in  Kentucky  would  hand  her  over  bound  to  Jeff 
Davis  to-morrow,  if  they  dared  ;  but  they  dare  not  do  it.  In 
the  first  place,  they  fear  Uncle  Sam  and  his  gunboats ;  in  the 
next  place,  they  feai'  Kentuckians,  of  whom,  thank  God !  there 
are  enough  who  do  not  believe  in  slavery  ;  and,  lastly,  they  fear 
the  nineteenth  century  and  the  spii'it  of  the  age.  Better  take 
counsel  from  the  Rhetts  and  Spratts  of  South  Carolina  than 
from  the  selfish  politicians  of  Kentucky  !  They  will  moor  you 
to  the  platform  of  a  false  conservatism  till  the  golden  opportu- 


354  PECULIAR. 

nity  slips  by,  and  new  tliousands  must  be  slaughtered  before  it 
can  be  recovered." 

"  Well,  what  would  be  your  programine  ?  " 

"This,  Mr.  President:  accept  it  as  a  foregone  conclusion 
that  slavery  inust  be  exterminated  ;  and  then  bend  all  your  en- 
ergies on  accelerating  its  extermination.  We  sometimes  hear 
it  said,  '  Wliat !  do  you  expect  such  a  vast  system  —  so  inter- 
woven with  the  institutions  of  the  South  —  to  be  uprooted  and 
overthrown  all  at  once  ? '  To  which  I  reply,  '  Yes  !  The  price 
paid  has  been  already  propoi'tionate  to  the  magnitude  of  the 
overthroxu'  Before  the  war  is  over,  upwards  of  a  million  of 
men  will  have  lost  their  lives  in  order  that  Slavery  might  try 
its  experiment  of  establishing  an  independent  slave  empire.  A 
million  of  men !  And  there  are  not  four  millions  of  slaves  in 
the  country !  We  will  not  take  into  account  the  treasure  ex- 
pended, —  the  lands  desolated,  —  the  taxe«  heaped  upon  the 
people,  —  the  ruin  and  anguish  inflicted.  It  strikes  me  the 
price  we  have  paid  is  big  enough  to  offset  the  vastness  of  the 
social  change.  And,  after  all,  it  is  not  such  a  fonnidable  job 
when  you  consider  that  there  are  not  forty  thousand  men  in  the 
whole  country  who  severally  own  as  many  as  ten  slaves. 
Why,  in  a  single  campaign  we  lose  more  soldiers  than  there 
are  slaveholders  having  any  considerable  stake  in  the  institu- 
tion. Experience  has  proved  that  there  could  be  univei'sal 
emancipation  to-morrow  without  bad  results  to  either  master  or 
slave,  —  with  advantage,  on  the  contrary,  to  both."  * 

"  Well,  Mr.  Vance,  we  will  suppose  the  Mississippi  opened ; 
New  Orleans,  Mobile,  Charleston,  and  Richmond  captured,  — 
the  RebeDion  on  its  last  legs  ;  —  what  then  ?  " 

"  With  the  capture  of  New  Orleans  and  Vicksburg,  and  the 
opening  of  the  jMississippi,  you  have  Secessia  on  the  hip,  and 
her  utter  subjugation  is  merely  a  question  of  time.  When  she 
cries  peccavi,  and  offers  to  give  m,  I  would  say  to  the  peojDle  of 
the  Rebel  States  :  '  First,  Slavery,  the  cause  of  this  war,  must 
be  surrendered,  to  be  disposed  of  at  the  discretion  of  the  vic- 
tore.  Secondly,  you  must  so  modify  your  constitutions  that 
Slavery  can  never  be   re-established  among   you.      Thirdly^ 

*  Our  experience  in  South  Carolina  and  Louisiana  proves  that  there  would 
be  no  danger,  but,  on  the  contraiy,  great  good  in  instant  emancipation. 


THE  OCCUPANT   OF  THE  WHITE  HOUSE.  355 

every  anti-republican  feature  in  your  State  governments  must 
be  abandoned.  FoiiHhly,  every  loyal  man  must  be  restored 
to  the  property  and  the  rights  you  may  have  robbed  him  of. 
Fifthly,  no  rrmn  offensively  implicated  in  the  Rebellion  must 
represent  any  State  in  Congress.  Sixthly,  no  man  must  be 
taxed  against  his  will  for  any  debt  incurred  through  rebellion 
against  the  United  States.  Under  these  easy  and  honorable 
terms,  I  would  readmit  the  seceded  States  to  the  Union  ;  and 
if  these  terms  are  refused,  I  would  occupy  and  hold  the  States 
as  conquered  territory." 

"  And  could  we  reconcile  such  a  course  with  a  due  regard  to 
law?" 

"  Surely  yes ;  for  the  people  in  rebellion  ai'e  at  oncef  subjects 
and  belligerents.  They  are  public  enemies,  and  as  such  gre 
entitled  only  to  such  privileges  as  we  may  choose  to  concede. 
They  are  subjects,  and  as  such  must  fulfil  their  obligations  to 
the  Republic." 

"  But  you  say  nothing  of  confiscation,"  Mr.  Vance. 

"  I  would  be  as  generous  as  possible  in  this  respect,  Mr. 
President.  Loyal  men  who  have  been  robbed  by  the  seces- 
sion fury  must  of  com'se  be  reimbursed,  and  the  families  of 
those  who  have  been  hung  for  their  loyalty  must  be  provided 
for.  I  see  no  fairer  way  of  doing  this  than  by  making  the 
robbers  give  up  their  plunder,  and  by  compelling  the  murderers 
to  contribute  to  the  wants  of  those  they  have  orphaned.  But 
beyond  this  I  would  be  governed  by  circumstances  as  they 
might  develop  themselves.  I  would  practice  all  the  clemency 
and  forbearance  consistent  with  justice.  Those  landholders 
who  should  lend  themselves  fairly  and  earnestly  to  the  work 
of  substituting  a  system  of  paid  labor  for  slavery  should  be 
entitled  to  the  most  generous  consideration  and  encourage- 
ment, whatever  their  antecedents  might  have  been.  I  would 
do  nothing  for  vengeance  and  humiliation  ;  everything  for  the 
benefit  of  the  Southern  people  themselves  and  their  posterity. 
Questions  of  indemnification  should  not  stand  in  the  way  of  a 
restored  Union." 

"  Undoubtedly,  ^Mr.  Vance,  the  interests  of  the  masses,  North 
and  South,  are  identical." 

"  That  is  true,  Mr.  President,  but  it  is  what  the  Rebel  leaders 


356  PECULIAR. 

try  to  conceal  {rom  their  dupes.  The  most  damnable  effect  of 
slavery  has  been  the  engendering  at  the  South  of  that  large 
class  of  mean  whites,  proud,  ignorant,  lazy,  squalid,  and  bru- 
tally degi-aded,  who  yet  feel  that  they  are  a  sort  of  aristocracy 
because  they  are  not  niggere.  Havijig  produced  this  class, 
Slavery  now  sees  it  must  rob  them  of  all  political  rights. 
Hence  the  avowed  plan  of  the  Secession  leadci-s  to  have  eitlier 
a  close  oligarchical  or  a  monarchical  government.  The  thick 
skulls  of  these  mean  whites  (or  if  not  of  them,  of  their  chil- 
dren) we  must  reach  by  help  of  the  schoolmaster,  and  let  them 
see  that  theii-  interests  lie  in  the  elevation  of  labor  and  in  op- 
position to  the  theories  of  the  shallow  dilettanti  of  the  South, 
who,  claiming  to  be  gi'eat  poUtical  tliinkers  and  philosophers, 
maintain  that  capital  ought  to  own  labor,  and  that  there  must 
be  a  hereditary  servile  race,  if  not  black,  then  white,  in  whom 
all  mental  aspiration  and  development  shall  be  discouraged  and 
kept  down,  in  order  that  they  may  be  content  to  be  hewers  of 
wood  and  di'awers  of  water.  As  if  God's  world-process  were 
kept  up  in  order  that  a  few  Epicurean  gentlemen  may  have  a 
good  time  of  it,  and  send  their  sons  to  Pai'is  to  eat  sumptuous 
dinners  and  attend  model-artist  entertainments,  while  thousands 
are  toiling  to  supply  the  means  for  their  base  pleasures.  As 
if  a  Frederick  Douglas  must  be  brutified  into  a  slave  in  order 
that  a  Slidell  may  give  Sybarite  banquets  and  drive  his  neat 
span  tlirough  the  Champs  Elysees  !  " 

"  Wliat  should  we  do  with  the  blacks  after  we  had  freed 
them  ?  " 

"  Let  them  alone  !  Let  them  do  for  themselves.  The  diffi- 
culties in  the  way  are  all  those  of  the  imagination." 

"  I  like  the  moderation  of  your  views  as  to  confiscation." 

"When  the  mass  of  the  people  at  the  South,"  continued 
Vance,  "  come  to  see,  as  they  will  eventually,  that  we  have 
been  fighting  the  great  battle  of  humanity  and  of  freedom,  for 
the  South  even  more  than  for  the  North,  for  the  white  man 
even  more  than  for  the  black,  there  will  be  such  a  reaction  as 
will  obliterate  every  trace  of  rancor  that  internecine  war  has 
begotten.  ^  But  I  have  talked  too  much.  I  have  occupied  too 
much  of  your  time." 

"  0  no !      I  delight  to  meet  with  men  who  come  to  me, 


THE  OCCUP.VNT  OF  TlIE   WHITE  HOUSE.  357 

thinking  how  they  may  benefit,  not  themselves,  but  their  coun- 
try. The  steam-tugs  you  gave  us  off  the  mouths  of  tlie  ^L"&- 
sissippi  we  would  gladly  have  paid  thirty  thousand  dollars  for. 
I  wish  I  could  meet  your  views  in  regard  to  the  enlistment  of 
black  troops  ;  but  —  but  —  that  pear  is  n't  yet  ripe.  Failing 
that,  you  shall  have  any  place  you  want  in  the  Butler  and 
Farragut  expedition  against  New  Orleans.  As  for  yom-  young 
friends,  —  what  did  you  say  their  names  are  ?  " 

"  Robert  Onslow  and  Charles  Kenrick." 

"  O  yes  !  Onslow,  you  say,  has  been  a  captain  in  the  Eebel 
service.  Both  the  young  men  shall  be  honorably  placed  where 
they  can  distinguish  themselves.  I  '11  speak  to  Stanton  about 
them  this  very  day.     Let  me  make  a  note  of  it." 

The  President  drew  from  liis  pocket  a  memorandum-book 
and  hastily  wrote  a  line  or  two.     Vance  rose  to  take  his  leave. 

"  Mr.  President,"  said  he,  "  I  thank  you  for  this  interview. 
But  there  's  one  thmg  in  wliich  you  Ve  disappointed  me." 

"  Ah  !  you  think  me  rather  a  slow  coach,  eh  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  but  that  was  n't  what  I  alluded  to." 

"  What  then  ?  " 

"  From  what  I  've  read  about  you  in  the  newspapers,  I 
expected  to  have  to  hear  one  of  your  stories." 

A  smile  full  of  sweetness  and  honhommie  broke  over  the 
President's  care-wom  face  as  he  replied  :  "  Really !  Is  it  pos- 
sible ?  Have  you  been  here  all  this  time  without  my  telling 
you  a  story  ?  Sit  down,  ]VIr.  Vance,  and  let  me  make  up  for 
my  remissness." 

Vance  resumed  his  seat. 

The  President  ran  his  fingers  through  his  long,  carelessly 
disposed  hair,  pushing  it  aside  from  his  forehead,  and  said  : 
"  Once  on  a  time  the  king  of  beasts,  the  lion,  took  it  into  his 
head  he  would  travel  into  foreign  parts.  But  before  leaving 
his  kingdom  he  installed  an  old  'coon  as  viceroy.  The  lion 
was  absent  just  four  months  to  a  day ;  and  on  his  return  he 
called  all  the  principal  beasts  to  hear  their  reports  as  to  the 
way  in  which  affairs  had  been  managed  in  liis  absence.  Said 
the  fox,  '  You  left  an  old  imbecile  to  rule  us,  sire.  No  sooner 
were  you  gone  than  a  rebelHon  broke  out,  and  he  appointed 
for  our  leader  a  low-born  mule,  whose  cardinal  maxim  in  mili- 


358  PECULIAR. 

tary  matters  was  to  put  off  till  to-morrow  whatever  could  be 
just  as  well  done  to-day :  whose  policy  was  a  masterly  inac- 
tivity instead  of  a  straightforward  movement  on  the  enemy's 
works.'  Said  the  sheep,  '  The  'coon  could  have  had  peace  if 
he  had  listened  to  me  and  others  who  wanted  to  draw  it  mild 
and  to  compromise.  Such  a  bloodthirsty  wretch  as  the  'coon 
ought  to  be  expelled  from  civilized  society.'  Said  the  hoi*se, 
*  He  is  too  slow.'  Said  the  ox,  '  He  is  too  fast.'  Said  the 
jackass,  '  He  does  n't  know  how  to  bray ;  he  can't  utter  an 
inspiring  note.'  Said  the  pig,  'He .is  too  full  of  his  jokes  and 
stories.'  Said  the  magpie,  '  He  is  a  har  and  a  thief.'  Said 
the  owl,  '  He  is  no  diplomatist.'  Said  the  tiger,  *  He  is  too 
conservative.'  Said  the  beaver,  '  He  is  too  radical.'  '  Stop ! ' 
roared  the  king,  — '  shut  up,  every  beast  of  you  ! '  At  once 
there  was  silence  in  the  assembly.  Then,  turning  to  his  vice- 
roy, the  lion  said,  '  Old  'coon,  I  wish  no  better  proof  that  you 
have  been  faithful  than  all  this  abuse  from  opposite  parties. 
You  have  done  so  well,  that  you  shall  be  reinstalled  for 
another  term  of  four  months  ! ' " 

"  And  what  did  the  old  'coon  say  to  that  ?  "  asked  Vance. 

"  The  old  'coon  begged  to  be  excused,  protesting  that  he  had 
experienced  quite  enough  of  the  charms  of  office." 

The  President  held  out  his  hand.  Vance  pressed  it  with  a 
respectful  cordiality,  and  withdrew  from  the  White  House. 


COMPARING  NOTES.  359 


CHAPTER    XXXVII. 


COMPAEING  NOTES. 


"But  thou  art  fled,        .... 
Like  some  frail  exhalation  which  the  dawn 
Robes  in  its  golden  beams,  —  ah  !   thou  hast  fled  ; 
The  braTe,  the  gentle,  and  the  beautiful, 
The  child  of  grace  and  genius  !  » 

Shelley. 

NOT  maiiy  weeks  after  the  convei-sation  (not  altogether 
ima^ary)  at  the  Whit^  House,  a  young  man  in  the 
mnform  of  a  captain  lay  on  the  sofa  in  a  room  at  WHlard's 
Hotel  m  Washington.  He  lay  reading  a  newspaper,  but  the 
paleness  of  liis  face  showed  that  he  had  been  suffeiing  either 
from  ilhiess  or  a  serious  wound.  This  young  man  was  Onslow. 
In  a  cavalry  skii-mish  at  Winchester,  in  which  the  Rebels  had 
been  handsomely  routed,  he  had  been  shot  through  the  lun-s 
the  ball  coming  out  at  his  back.  There  was  one  chance  in^'a 
thousand  that  the  direction  taken  by  the  ball  would  be  such  that 
the  wound  should  not  prove  fatal ;  and  this  thousandth  chance 
happened  m  his  favor.  Thanks  to  a  naturally  vigorous  consti- 
tution,  he  was  rapidly  convalescing.  He  began  to  be  impatient 
once  more  for  action. 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  Vance  entered. 

"  How  is  our  cavaliy  captain  to-day  ?  "  he  asked  cheerily. 

Better  and  better,  my  dear  Mr.  Vance." 
"Let  me  feel  of  his  pulse.      Excellent !      Firm,  regular' 
Appetite  V  '      £> 

"  Improvmg  daily.  He  ate  two  boiled  eggs  and  a  lamb  chop 
for  breakfast,  not  to  speak  of  a  slice  of  aerated  bread." 

"  Come  now,  —  that  will  do.  He  will  be  ready  soon  for  a 
bullet  through  his  other  lung.  But  he  must  not  get  restless. 
Ihere  s  plenty  of  fighting  in  store  for  him." 

«  IMr.  Vance,  I  Ve  been  pondering  the  strange  story  of  your 
Me  J  your  mterview  with  my  father  on  boai-d  the  Pontiac ;  the 


360  PECULIAR. 

loss  of  the  Berwicks  ;  tlie  supposed  loss  of  their  child ;  the 
developments  by  which  you  were  led  to  suspect  that  the  child 
was  kidnapped  ;  Peek's  unavailing  search  for  the  rascal  Hyde ; 
the  interview  with  Qualtles,  (.'onfirming  your  suspicion  of  foul 
play ;  and  finally  your  interview  last  week  in  New  York  with 
the  mulatto  woman,  Ilattie  Davy.  Let  me  ask  if  Hattie  thinks 
she  could  still  identify  the  lost  child." 

"  Yes,  by  certain  marks  on  her  person.  She  at  once  recog- 
nized the  little  sleeve-button  I  got  from  Quattles." 

"  Please  let  me  look  at  it." 

Vance  took  from  his  pocket  a  small  circular  box  which  he 
unscrewed,  and  there,  in  the  centre  of  a  circle  of  hair,  lay  the 
button.  He  handed  the  box  to  the  wounded  soldier.  At  this 
moment  Kenrick  entered  the  room. 

"  Ha,  Lieutenant !      What 's  the  news  ?  "  exclaimed  Vance. 

"  Ask  any  one  but  me,"  returned  Kenrick.  "  Have  I  not 
been  all  the  morning  trying  guns  at  the  navy-yard  ?  What 
have  you  there,  Robert !  A  lock  of  hair  ?  Ah  !  I  have  seen 
that  hair  before." 

"  Lnpossible  !  "  said  Vance. 

"  Not  at  all !  "  rephed  Kenrick.  "  The  color  is  too  peculiar 
to  be  confounded.  Miss  Perdita  Brown  wore  a  bracelet  of  that 
hair  the  last  evening  we  met  her  at  the  St.  Charles." 

"  Again  I  say,  impossible,"  quoth  Vance.  "  Something  hke 
it  perhaps,  but  not  this.     How  could  she  have  come  by  it  ?  " 

"  Cousin,"  rephed  Kenrick,  "  I  'm  quick  to  detect  slight  dif- 
ferences of  color,  and  in  this  case  I  'm  sure." 

Suddenly  the  Lieutenant  noticed  the  little  sleeve-button  in 
Onslow's  hand,  and,  while  the  blood  mounted  to  his  forehead, 
turning  to  him  said,  "  How  did  you  come  by  this,  Robert  ?  " 

"  Why  do  you  ask  with  so  much  interest  ?  "  inquired  Vance. 

"  Because  that  same  button  I  've  seen  w^om  by  Perdita." 

"  Now  I  know  you  're  raving,"  said  Vance  ;  "  for,  till  now,  it 
has  n't  been  out  of  my  pocket  since  Quattles-  gave  it  me." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say,"  exclaimed  Kenrick,  "  that  this  is  the 
jewel  of  which  you  told  me ;  that  wliich  belonged  to  the  lost 
infant  of  the  Pontiac  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  her  nurse  identifies  it.  Undoubtedly  it  is  one  of  a 
pair  worn  by  poor  little  Clara." 


COMPARING  NOTES.  361 

"  Then,"  said  Kenrick,  with  the  emphasis  of  sudden  convic- 
tion, "  Clara  and  Perdita  are  one  and  tlie  same  ! " 

Startling  as  a  severe  blow  was  this  declaration  to  Vance. 
It  forced  upon  his  consideration  a  possibility  so  new,  so  strange, 
so  distressing,  that  he  felt  crushed  by  the  thought  that  there 
was  even  a  chance  of  its  truth.  Such  an  opportunity,  thrust, 
as  it  were,  by  Fate  under  his  eyes,  had  it  been  allowed  to 
escape  him?  His  emotions  were  those  of  a  blind  man,  who 
being  suddenly  restored  to  sight,  learns  that  he  has  passed  by  a 
treasure  which  another  has  picked  up.  He  paced  the  room. 
He  struck  his  arms  out  wildly.  He  pushed  up  the  sleeves  of 
his  coat  with  an  objectless  energy,  and  then  pulled  them  down. 
«  O  blind  mole  ! "  he  groaned,  «  too  intent  on  thy  own  little 
burrow  to  see  the  stars  out-shining  !  O  beast  with  blinders ! 
looking  neither  on  the  right  nor  on  the  left,  but  only  straight 
before  thy  nose  !  " 

And  then,  as  if  ashamed  of  his  ranting,  he  sat  down  and  said  : 
"  How  strange  that  this  possibility  should  never  have  occurred 
to  me  !  I  saw  there  was  a  mystery  in  the  poor  girl's  fate,  and 
I  tried  to  make  her  disclose  it.  Had  I  only  seen  her  that  last 
day  I  called,  I  should  have  extorted  her  confidence.  Once  or 
twice  during  our  interviews  she  seemed  on  the  point  of  telling 
me  something.  Then  she  would  check  herself,  as  if  from  some 
prompting  of  delicacy  or  of  caution.  To  think  that  I  should 
have  been  so  inconsiderate  !  To  think,  too,  that  I  should  have 
1-een  duped  by  that  heartless  lay-figure  for  dressmakers  and 
milliners,  Miss  Tremaine  !  Yes !  I  almost  dread  to  look  further 
lest  I  should  be  convinced  that  Charles  is  right,  and  that  Clara 
Berwick  and  Perdita  Brown  are  one  and  the  same  person.  If 
so,  the  poor  girl  we  all  so  admired  is  a  slave  !  " 

"  A  slave  !  '*  gasped  Kenrick,  struck  to  the  heart  by  the 
cruel  word,  and  turning  pale. 

"  I  'd  like  to  see  the  man  who  'd  venture  to  style  himself  her 
master  in  my  presence  ! "  cried  Onslow,  forgetting  his  wound, 
and  half  rismg  from  the  sofa. 

"  Soft !  "  said  Vance.  "  We  may  be  too  hasty  in  our  conclu- 
sion. There  may  be  sleeve-buttons  by  the  gross,  precisely  of 
this  pattern,  in  the  shops." 

"  No !  "  replied  Kenrick.     "  Coral  of  that  color  is  what  you 


362  PKCULIAR. 

do  not  often  meet  with.  Such  a  delicate  flesh  tint  is  unusual. 
You  cannot  convince  me  that  the  mate  of  this  button  is  not  the 
one  worn  by  the  young  lady  we  knew  as  Perdita.  Perhaps,  too, 
it  is  marked  like  the  other  paii*.  If  so,  it  ought  to  have  on  it 
the  lettei-s  — " 

"  Wliat  letters  ?  "  exclaimed  Vance,  fiercely,  arresting  Ken- 
rick's  hand  so  he  could  not  examine  the  button. 

«  The  letters  C.  A.  B.,"  replied  Kennck. 

"  Good  heavens,  yes  !  "  ejaculated  Vance,  releasing  him,  and 
sinking  into  an  arm-chair.  And  then,  after  several  seconds  of 
profound  sighing,  he  drew  forth  from  his  pocket-book  an  en- 
velope, and  said :  "  This  contains  the  testimony  of  Hattie 
Davy  in  regard  to  certain  personal  marks  that  would  go  far  to 
prove  identity.  One  of  these  marks  I  distinctly  remember  as 
striking  my  attention  in  Clara,  the  child,  and  yet  I  never 
noticed  it  in  the  person  we  knew  as  Perdita.  Could  I  have 
failed  to  remark  it,  had  it  existed  ?  " 

*'  Why  not  ?  "  answered  Kenrick.  "  Your  thoughts  are  too 
intent  on  public  business  for  you  to  apply  them  very  closely  to 
an  examination  of  the  personal  graces  or  defects  of  any  young 
woman,  however  charming." 

"  Tell  me.  Captain,"  said  Vance  to  Onslow,  "  did  you  ever 
notice  in  Perdita  any  physical  peculiarity,  in  which  she  differed 
from  most  other  persons  ?  " 

"I  merely  noticed  she  was  peculiarly  beautiful,"  replied 
Onslow ;  "  that  she  wore  her  own  fine,  rich,  profuse  hair  exclu- 
sively, instead  of  borrowing  tresses  from  the  wig-maker,  as 
nine  tenths  of  our  young  ladies  do  now-a-days  ;  that  her  fea- 
tures were  not  only  handsome  in  themselves  by  those  laws 
which  a  sculptor  would  acknowledge,  but  lovely  from  the  ex- 
pression that  made  them  luminous  ;  that  her  form  was  the  most 
symmetrical  ;  her — " 

"  Enough,  Captain  !  "  interrupted  Vance.  "  I  see  you  did 
not  detect  the  peculiai-ity  to  which  I  allude.  Now  tell  me, 
cousin,  how  was  it  with  you  ?     Were  you  more  penetratmg  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  know  to  what  you  refer,"  replied  Kenrick.  "  Her 
eyes  were  of  different  colors ;  one  a  rich  dark  blue,  the  other 
gray." 

"  Fate !  yes  !  "  excldmed  Vance,  dashing  one  hand  against 
the  other.     "  Can  you  tell  me  which  was  blue  ?  " 


COMPARING  NOTES.  363 

•*  Yes,  the  leiPt  was  blue." 

Vance  took  from  the  envelope  a  paper,  and  unfolding  it 
pointed  to  these  lines  which  Onslow  and  Kenrick  perused  to- 
gether :  — 

Vance.  "  You  tell  me  one  of  her  eyes  was  dark  blue,  the 
other  dark  gray.     Can  you  tell  me  which  was  blue  ?  " 

Hattie.  ''  Yes  ;  for  I  remember  a  talk  about  it  between  the 
father  and  the  mother.  The  father  had  blue  eyes,  the  mother 
gi*ay.  The  mother  playfully  boasted  that  the  eye  of  her  color 
was  the  child's  right  eye ;  to  which  the  father  replied,  '  But  the 
left  is  neai'est  the  heart.'  And  so,  sir,  remembering  that  con- 
versation, I  can  swear  positively  that  the  child's  left  eye  was 
the  blue  one." 

"  Rather  a  stiiking  concurrence  of  testimony  !  "  said  Onslow. 
"  I  wonder  I  should  never  have  detected  the  oddity." 

"  Let  me  remai'k,"  replied  Kenrick,  "  that  it  required  a  near 
observation  to  note  the  difference  in  the  hue  of  the  eyes. 
Three  feet  off  you  would  hardly  discriminate.  The  depth  of 
shade  is  nearly  equal  in  both.  You  might  be  acquainted  with 
Perdita  a  twelvemonth  and  never  heed  the  peculiarity.  So  do 
not,  cousin,  take  blame  to  yourself  for  inattention." 

"  Do  you  remember,  Charles,"  said  Vance,  "  our  visit  to  the 
hospital  the  day  after  our  landing  in  New  York  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  shall  never  forget  the  scene,"  rephed  Kenrick. 

"  Do  you  remember,"  continued  Vance,  "  among  the  nurses 
quite  a  young  girl,  who,  while  carrying  a  salver  of  food  to  a 
wounded  soldier,  was  asked  by  you  if  you  should  not  relieve 
her  of  the  burden  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  and  her  reply  was,  '  Where  are  your  shoulder-straps  ?' 
And  she  eyed  me  from  head  to  foot  with  provoking  coolness. 
'  I  'm  on  my  way  to  Washmgton  for  them,'  answered  I.  *  Then 
you  may  take  the  salver,'  said  the  Httle  woman,  graciously 
thrusting  it  into  my  hands." 

"  Well,  Charles,  when  I  was  in  New  York  last  week,  I  saw 
that  same  little  woman  again,  and  found  out  who  she  is.  How 
strangely,  in  this  kaleidoscope  of  events  which  we  call  the 
world,  we  are  brought  in  conjunction  with  those  persons  be- 
tween whose  fate  and  our  own  Chance  or  Providence  seems  to 
tender  a  significance  which  it  would  have  us  heed  and  solve ! 


364  PECULIAR. 

This  girl  was  a  Miss  Charlton,  the  danghter  of  that  same 
Ralph  Charlton  who  holds  the  immense  estate  that  rightfully 
belongs  to  our  lost  Clara." 

"  Would  he  be  disposed  to  surrender  it  ?  "  asked  Onslow. 

"  Probably  not.  I  took  pains  while  in  New  York  to  make 
inquiries.  I  learnt  that  his  domestic  statjis  is  far  from  envia- 
ble. He  himself,  could  he  follow  his  heart's  proclivities,  would 
be  a  miser.  Then  he  could  be  happy  and  contented  —  in  his 
way.  But  this  liis  wife  will  not  allow.  She  forces  him  by 
the  power  of  a  superior  will  into  expenses  at  which  his  heart 
revolts,  although  they  do  not  absorb  a  fifth  part  of  his  income. 
The  daughter  shrinks  from  him  with  an  imiate  aversion  which 
she  cannot  overcome.  And  so,  unloving  and  unloved,  he  finds 
in  his  own  base  avarice  the  instrument  that  scourges  him  and 
keeps  him  wretched." 

"  I  should  not  feel  much  compunction  in  compelling  such  a 
man  to  unclutch  his  riches,"  remarked  Onslow. 

"  It  will  be  ver}'  difficult  to  do  that,  I  fear,"  said  Vance, 
"  even  supposing  Ave  can  find  and  identify  the  true  heir." 

"  We  must  find  her,  cost  what  it  may ! "  cried  Kenrick, 
"  Cousin,  take  me  to  New  Orleans  with  you." 

"  No,  Charles.  You  are  wanted  here  on  the  Potomac.  Your 
reputation  in  gunnery  is  already  high.  The  country  needs  more 
officers  of  your  stamp.  You  cannot  be  spared.  The  Captain 
here  can  go  with  me  to  the  Gulf.  He  is  wounded  and  entitled 
to  a  furlough.    A  trip  to  New  Orleans  by  sea  will  do  him  good." 

With  a  look  of  grave  disappointment  Kenrick  took  up  a 
newspaper  and  kept  his  face  concealed  by  it  for  a  moment 
Then  putting  it  down,  and  turning  to  Vance,  he  said,  with  a 
sweet  sincerity  in  his  tone :  ''  Cousin,  where  my  wishes  are  so 
strongly  enlisted,  you  can  judge  better  than  I  of  my  duty.  I 
yield  to  your  judgment,  and,  if  you  persist  in  it,  wiU  make  no 
effort  to  get  from  government  the  permission  I  covet." 

"  Truly  I  think  your  place  is  here,"  said  Vance. 

A  servant  entered  with  a  letter.  It  was  for  Vance.  He 
opened  it,  and  finding  it  was  from  Peek,  read  as  follows  :  — 

"Xew  0KLEA2fs,  Februarv,  1862. 

"  Dear  Mr.  Vance  :  On  leaving  you  at  the  Levee  I  drove 
straight  for  the  stable  where  my  horses  belonged.     I  passed 


COMPARING  NOTES.  355 

fay  ftlrl'^  "^  .''"'"'^  '^'°'"'^'  *«>  coachman.     The  next 

X:^Bjz^::zt:: '  ^-^  ^^^y^^  ^--^  ^^o-  s 

attending  to  his  affairs  I  a,n  attendin/to  voui      T„„  /  '" 
t^L'JttT^l   '''   newspapers-crntS-  flZ„"  /%! 

and  fo^U  in  thTse'/^anTwh  Tp  "ed  'aTZrt  7{  '  "*'"' 
ance,  Esha,  whom  years  a^o  you  sotht  fn,"^^  •  "c?"*'"'*- 
here  keeping  wateh  over  .\CZt  °  "^^     ^""^  "^ 

And  who  IS  the  white  slave?  you  will  ask      AI,  I  th.     > 

=urtSe:rst:2e:2r:t^^^^^    --  - 

"  nf  Lil     T""  \  ''  ■'  '^'^  "^^^^  •' "  -q^-'^d  Onslow. 

heated  m  his  own  apartment,  he  continued  the  reading:- 
"  Do  not  think  me  fanciful,  Mr.  Vance  but  thp  ™ 

I  believe  In  ^l S^:.^! 7^;SZMl"'-Bf''P''''  '"7 
ng  t  word.     Kno.le,,e  would ^ene^tThe  t^t^"  ""'  *^ 

who^ctii:  hi^Sf  ■:  Sr  ^^ris^°""="  ^r^r'  ^-^- 

have  several  thnes  caSrhTm  c£  iu^  "  B  f  ?'  ''"°"'',"^'  ^ 
gives  me  glimpses  of  spiritual  powerf  ^^^^1^'"'^^^ 
cases  in  which  cheating  is  impossMe  vl  ■  f  ™?.^  1'''"° 
out  throwing  out  any  nrevio^C  v  ">stanee,  if  with- 

g    ui,  duy  pjevjous  hmt,  however  remote,  I  think  of 


366  PKCULIAR. 

twenty  different  persons  in  succession,  my  knowledge  of  whom 
is  a  secret  in  my  own  brain,  and  if  I  say  to  a  medium,  '  Of 
what  person  am  I  thinking  now?*  and  if  the  medium  instantly, 
without  hesitation  or  inquiry,  gives  me  the  right  reply  twenty 
times  in  succession,  I  may  reasonably  conclude  —  may  I  not?  — 
that  the  power  is  what  it  appears  to  be.  and  that  the  medium 
gets  his  knowledge  through  a  faculty  wliich,  if  not  preternatu- 
ral, is  very  rare,  and  is  denied  as  possible  by  science.  Well, 
this  test  has  been  fullilled,  not  once  only,  but  more  than  fifty 
different  times.* 

"I  got  Madame  Volney's  consent  to  bring  Bender  to  the 
house.  After  he  had  showed  her  his  wonderful  powers  of 
thought-reading,  we  put  the  hand  of  the  white  slave  in  his, 
and  bade  him  tell  us  her  name.  He  wrote  with  great  rapidity, 
Clara  Aylesford  Berivich.  We  asked  her  father's  name.  In 
a  moment  the  medium's  limbs  twitched  and  writhed,  his  eye- 
balls rolled  up  so  that  their  natural  expression  was  lost,  and  he 
extended  his  arm  as  if  in  pain.  Then  suddenly  dropping  the 
girl's  hand  he  drew  up  the  sleeve  from  his  right  ai-m,  and 
there,  in  crimson  letters  on  the  white  skin  were  the  words 
Henry  BerivicLf 

"  Now  whether  this  is  the  right  name  or  not  I  do  not  know. 
I  presume  that  it  is ;  though  it  is  rarely  safe  to  trust  a  me- 
dium in  such  cases.  The  child's  name  I  have  heard  you  say 
was  Clara  Ber^vick.  I  have  never  spoken  or  written  it  except 
to  yourself.  Still  Bender  may  have  got  the  father's  name,  — 
the  surname  at  least,  —  from  my  mind.  But  if  the  name 
Henry  is  right,  where  did  he  get  that  ?  I  am  not  awai-e  of 
ever  having  known  the  father's  name.  The  check  he  once 
gave  you  for  me  you  never  showed  me,  but  cashed  it  youreelf. 
Still  I  shall  not  too  positively  claim  that  the  name  was  commu- 
nicated preternaturally ;  for  expeiience  has  convinced  me  it 
may  have  been  in  my  mind  without  my  knowing  it.  Every 
thought  of  our  lives  is  probably  photographed  on  our  brains, 
never  to  be  obliterated.  Let  me  study,  then,  to  multiply  my 
good  thoughts.  But  in  whatever  way  Bender  got  the  name, 
whether  from  my  mind  or  from  a  spirit,  the  fact  is  interesting 
and  important  in  either  case. 

"  The  effect  upon  Clara  (for  so  we  now  all  call  her)  of  this 
singular  event  was  such  as  to  convince  her  instantaneously  that 

*  The  -ftTiter  has  fully  tested  it  in  repeated  instances;  and  there  are  prob- 
ably several  hiindred  thousand  persons  at  this  moment  in  the  United  States, 
to  whom  the  same  species  of  test  is  a  ceriaiiity,  not  merely  a  belief. 

t  The  parallel  facts  are  too  numerous  and  notorious  to  need  specification. 


COMPARING  NOTES.  367 

the  name  was  right,  and  that  she  is  the  child  of  Henry  Ber- 
wick. As  soon  as  the  medium  had  gone,  she  asked  me  if  I 
could  not  find  out  who  Mr.  Berwick  was.  I  then  told  her  the 
story  of  the  Pontiac,  down  to  the  recent  confession  of  Quattles, 
and  my  o\\ti  search  for  Colonel  Delancy  Hyde.  All  my  little 
group  of  hearers  — Madame  Yolney,  Esha,  and  Clara  — were 
deeply  interested,  as  you  may  suppose,  in  the  narrative.  Clara 
was  much  moved  when  she  learnt  that  the  same  Mr.  Vance, 
M'hose  acquaintance  she  had  made,  was  the  one  who  had  known 
the  parents,  and  was  now  seeking  for  their  daughter.  She  has 
a  serene  conviction  that  slie  is  the  identical  child.  When  I 
read  what  you  had  written  about  different  colored  eyes,  she 
simply  said,  'Look,  Peek!'  And  there  they  were,  — blue  and 
gray! 

"  Mr.  Ratcliff 's  house  is  in  the  charge  of  his  lawyer,  Mr. 
Semmes,  who  keeps  a  very  strict  eye  over  all  outgoings  and 
incomings.  Esha  has  his  confidence,  but  he  distrusts  both 
Clara  and  Madame  Volney.  By  pretending  that  I  am  her  half- 
brother,  Esha  enables  me  to  come  and  go  unsuspected.  The 
medium.  Bender,  was  introduced  as  a  chiropedist.  Clara  never 
goes  out  without  a  driver  and  footman,  who  are  agents  and 
spies  of  Semmes.  It  does  not  matter  at  present ;  for  it  would 
be  diflicult  in  the  existing  state  of  affairs  to  remove  Clara  out 
of  the  city  without  running  great  risk  of  detection  and  pursuit. 
I  have  sometimes  thought  of  putting  her  in  a  boat  and  rowing 
down  the  river  to  Pass  k  I'Outre;  but  the  hazard  would  be 
serious. 

"  As  it  is  important  to  collect  all  the  proofs  possible  for  Clara's 
identification,  it  was  at  first  agreed  among  the  women  that  Esha 
should  call,  as  if  in  the  interests  of  Mr.  Ratcliff,  on  Mrs.  Gen- 
try, the  teacher,  and  get  from  that  lady  all  the  facts,  dates,  and 
memorials  that  may  have  a  bearing  on  Clara's  liistory.  But, 
on  reflection,  I  concluded  it  would  be  better  to  put  the  matter 
in  the  hands  of  a  lawyer  who  could  take  down  in  leo-al  form 
with  the  proper  attestation,  all  that  Mrs.  Gentry  mighl  have  to 
communicate.  Mr.  Winslow  had  given  me  a  letter  of  intro- 
duction to  Mr.  Jasper,  his  confidential  adviser,  and  a  loyal  man. 
To  him  I  went  and  explained  what  I  wanted.  He  at  once 
gave  the  business  his  attention.  With  two  suitable  witnesses 
he  called  on  Mrs.  Gentry  and  took  down  her  deposition.  I 
had  told  him  to  procure,  if  possible,  some  articles  of  dress  that 
belonged  to  the  child  when  first  brought  to  the  house.  This  he 
succeeded  in  doing.  A  little  undershirt  and  frock,  — a  child's 
petticoat  and  pocket-handkerchief,  —  were  among  the  articles, 


368  PECULIAR. 

and  they  were  all  marked  in  wliite  silk,  C.  A.  B.  Mrs.  Genti'y 
said  that  her  own  oath  as  to  the  clothes  could  be  contirmed  by 
Esha's.  Esha  was  accordinp^ly  sent  for,  and  she  came,  and,  be- 
ing duly  sworn,  identified  the  clothes  as  those  the  child  had  on 
when  fii-st  left  at  the  liouse ;  which  clothes  Esha  had  washed, 
and  tlie  child  had  subsequently  worn.  This  testimony  being 
duly  recorded,  the  clothes  were  done  up  carefully  in  a  paper 
package,  to  which  the  seals  of  all  the  gentlemen  present  were 
attached ;  and  then  the  package  was  placed  in  a  small  leather 
trunk  which  was  locked. 

"  I  should  mention  one  circumstance  that  adds  fresh  confirma- 
tion. In  telling  jNIiss  Clara  what  Quattles  had  confessed  (the 
details  of  which  you  give  in  that  important  letter  you  handed 
me)  I  alluded  to  the  pair  of  sleeve-buttons.  '  Was  there  any 
mark  upon  them?'  she  asked.  'Yes,  the  initials  C.  A.  B.' 
8he  instantly  drew  forth  from  her  bosom  another  pair,  the 
counterpart  probably  of  that  described  in  yoiu'  letter,  and  on 
one  of  the  buttons  were  the  same  charactei-s !  Can  we  resist 
such  evidences? 

"  Let  me  mention  another  extraordinary  development.  Ma- 
dame Volney  does  not  scruple  to  resort  to  all  the  stratagems 
justifiable  in  war  to  get  information  from  the  enemy.  Mr. 
Semmes  is  an  old  fox,  but  not  so  cunning  as  to  guard  against 
an  inspection  of  his  papers  by  means  of  duplicate  keys.  In 
one  of  the  drawei-s  of  the  libraiy  he  deposits  his  letters.  In 
looking  them  over  the  other  day,  Madame  V.  found  one  from 
Mr.  Semmes's  brother  in  New  York,  in  which  the  fact  is  dis- 
closed that  this  house,  hired  by  Mr.  Ratcliff,  belonged  to  ISIiss 
Clara's  father,  and  ought,  if  the  inheritance  had  not  been  frau- 
dulently intercepted,  to  be  now  her  property  !  Said  Miss  Clara 
to  me  when  she  learnt  the  fact,  '  Peek,  if  I  am  ever  rich,  you 
shall  have  a  nice  little  cottage  overlooking  my  garden.'  Ah ! 
Mr.  Vance,  I  thought  of  Naomi,  and  wondered  if  she  would  be 
living  to  share  the  promised  fortune. 

"  I  have  a  vague  fear  of  this  ]\Ir.  Semmes.  Under  the  affecta- 
tion of  great  frankness,  he  seems  to  me  one  of  those  men  wlio 
make  it  a  rule  to  suspect  everybody.  I  have  warned  the 
women  to  take  heed  to  theii*  conversation ;  to  remember  that 
walls  have  eai-s.  I  rely  much  on  Esha.  She  has,  thus  far, 
been  too  deep  for  him.  He  has  several  times  tried  to  throw 
her  off  her  guard ;  but  has  not  yet  succeeded.  He  is  evidently 
distrustful  and  disposed  to  lay  traps  for  us. 

"  It  appears  that  jVIr.  Ratcliff 's  plan,  at  the  time  you  intercept- 
ed him  in  his  career,  and  had  him  sent  North,  was  to  offer  mai'- 


COMPARING  NOTES.  369 

nage  to  this  young  girl  he  claims  to  hold  as  a  slave.  Marriage 
with  him  would  plainly  be  as  hateful  to  her  as  any  other  spe- 
cies of  relation  ;  and  my  present  wish  is  to  put  her  as  soon  as 
possible  beyond  his  reach,  lest  he  should  any  time  unexpectedly 
return.  Madame  Volney  is  so  confident  in  her  power  to  save 
her,  that  Clara's  anxieties  seem  to  be  much  allayed ;  and  now 
that  she  fully  believes  she  is  no  slave,  but  the  legitimate  child 
of  honorable  parents,  she  cultivates  an  assurance  as  to  her 
safety,  wliich  I  hope  is  not  the  precursor  of  misfortune.  The 
money  which  Mr.  Winslow  left  in  my  hands  for  her  use  would 
be  sufficient  to  enable  us  to  carry  out  some  effectual  scheme  of 
escape ;  but  Madame  Volney  does  not  agree  with  me  as  to  the 
importance  of  an  immediate  attempt.  Will  Ratcliff  come 
back  ?     That  is  the  question  I  now  daily  ask  myself. 

"  I  recognized  on  Clara's  wrist  the  other  day  a  bracelet  of 
your  wife's  hair.  How  did  she  come  by  it?  The  reply  was 
simple.  Esha  gave  it  to  her.  Clara  is  very  fond  of  question- 
ing me  about  you.  She  has  learnt  from  me  all  the  particulars 
of  your  wife's  tragical  fate,  and  of  the  debt  you  yourself  owe 
to  the  Slave  Power.  She  takes  the  intensest  interest  in  the 
war.  Learning  from  me  that  my  friend  Cailloux  was  forming 
a  secret  league  among  the  blacks  in  aid  of  the  Union  cause° 
she  made  me  take  five  hundred  doUai-s  of  the  money  left  by  Mr. 
Winslow  for  her  in  my  possession,  and  this  she  sent  to  Cailloux 
with  a  letter.  He  wrote  her  in  reply,  that  he  wished  no  better 
end  than  to  die  fighting  for  the  Union  and  for  the  elevation  of 
his  race.* 

"  I  have  not  forgotten  the  importance  of  getting  hold  of 
Colonel  Hyde.  I  have  searched  for  him  daily  in  the  principal 
diinking-saloons,  but  have  found  no  trace  of  him  as  jet.  I 
have  also  kept  up  my  search  for  my  wife,  having  sent  out  two 
agents,  who,  I  trust,  may  be  more  fortunate  than  I  myself  have 
been  ;  for  I  sometimes  think  my  own  over-anxiety  may  have 
defeated  my  purpose.  In  making  these  searches  I  have  availed 
myself  of  the  means  you  have  so  generously  placed  at  my 
disposal. 

"  The  few  Union  men  who  are  here  are  looking  hopefully  to 
the  promised  expedition  of  Farragut  and  Butler.  But  the 
Rebels  are  defiant  and  even  contemptuous  in  their  incredulity. 

*  Captain  Andre  Cailloux,  a  negro,  was  a  well-educated  and  accomplished 
gentleman.  He  belonged  to  the  First  Louisiana  regiment,  and  perished 
nobly  at  Port  Hudson,  May  17,  1863,  leading  on  his  men  in  the  thickest  of 
the  fight.  His  body  was  recovered  the  latter  part  of  July,  and  interred  with 
great  ceremony  at  New  Orleans. 

16*  3C 


'610  PECULIAR. 

They  say  our  fleet  can  never  pass  Forts  Jackson  and  St. 
Philip.  And  then  they  have  an  iron  ram,  on  the  efficacy  of 
which  they  largely  count.  Furthei-more,  they  mean  to  wel- 
come us  with  bloody  hands,  &c. ;  die  in  the  last  ditch,  &c.  We 
shall  see.  This  prayer  suffices  for  me :  God  help  the  right  / 
Adieu  ! 

« Faithfully,  Peek." 

We  have  seen  with  what  profound  emotion  Vance  received 
the  information,  that  the  man  whose  formidable  power  was  en- 
closing Clara  in  its  folds  was  the  same  whose  brutality  had 
killed  Estelle.  Vance  could  no  longer  doubt  that  Clara  and 
Perdita  were  identical.  He  looked  in  his  memorandum-book 
to  assure  himself  of  the  name  of  Clara's  father.  Yes  !  Ben- 
der was  right.     There  were  the  words  :  Henry  Berwick. 

Then  puttmg  on  his  hat  Vance  hurried  to  the  War  Office. 
Would  the  Secretary  have  the  goodness  to  address  a  question 
to  the  officer  commanding  at  Fort  Lafayette  ?  Certainly :  it 
could  be  done  instantly  by  telegraph.  Have  the  goodness  to 
ask  if  Mr.  Ratcliff,  of  New  Orleans,  is  still  under  secure  con- 
finement. 

The  click  of  the  telegraph  apparatus  in  the  War  Office  was 
speedily  heard,  putting  the  desii-ed  inteiTOgatory. 

"  Expect  a  reply  in  half  an  hour,"  said  the  operator. 

Vance  looked  at  his  watch,  and  then  passed  out  into  the 
paved  corridor  and  walked  up  and  down.  He  thought  of 
Clara,  —  of  the  bracelet  of  his  wife's  hair  on  her  wrist.  It 
moved  him  to  tears.  Was  there  not  something  in  the  identity 
in  the  position  of  these  two  yoiing  and  lovely  women  that 
seemed  to  draw  him  by  the  subtle  meshes  of  an  overruling  fate 
to  Clara's  side  ?  Could  it  be  that  Estelle  herself,  a  guardian 
angel,  was  favoring  the  conjunction  ? 

For  an  instant  that  gracious  image  which  had  so  long  been 
the  light  of  his  waking  and  his  sleeping  dreams,  seemed  to 
retire,  and  another  to  take  her  place  ;  another,  different,  yet 
hardly  less  lovely. 

For  an  instant,  and  for  the  second  tune,  visions  of  a  new 
domestic  paradise,  —  of  beautiftd  children  who  should  call  him 
father,  —  of  a  daughter  whose  name  should  be  Estelle,  —  of  life's 
evening  spent  amid  the  amenities  of  a  refined  and  happy  home, 


COMPARING  NOTES.  371 

—  flitted  before  his  imagination,  and  importuned  desire.  But 
they  speedily  vanished,  and  that  other  transcendent  unage  re- 
turned and  resumed  its  phice. 

Ah !  it  was  so  hfe-like,  so  real,  so  near  and  positive  in  its 
presence,  that  no  other  could  be  its  substitute  !  For  no  other 
could  his  heart's  chalice  overflow  with  immortal  love.    Had  she 

not  said,  — 

"  And  dear  as  sacramental  wine 
To  dying  lips  was  all  she  said," — 

had  she  not  said,  "I  shall  see  you,  though  you  may  not  see 
me?"  Vance  took  the  words  into  his  believing  heart,  and 
thenceforth  they  were  a  reahty  from  the  sense  of  which  he 
could  not  withdraw  himself,  and  would  not  have  withdrawn 
himself  if  he  could. 

He  looked  again  at  his  watch,  and  re-entered  that  inner 
office  of  the  War  Department,  to  which  none  but  those  high  in 
government  confidence  were  often  admitted. 

"  We  have  just  received  a  reply  to  your  inquiry,"  said  the 
clerk.  "  Mr.  RatclifF  of  New  Orleans  made  his  escape  fi'om 
Fort  Lafayette  ten  days  ago.  The  Department  has  taken 
active  measures  to  have  him  rearrested." 


372  PECULIAR. 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 

THE  lat\^t:r  akd  the  lady. 

"The  Deril  ia  an  ass."—  OW  Proverb. 

PEEK'S  apprehensions  in  regard  to  Ratcliff's  agent, 
Semmes,  were  not  imaginary.  Semmes  was  of  the 
school  in  politics  and  policy  of  old  ISIx.  Slidell.  He  did  not 
believe  in  the  vitality  and  absoluteness  of  right  and  goodness. 
His  life  maxim  was,  while  bowing  and  smirking  to  all  the  world, 
to  hold  all  the  world  as  cheats.  To  his  mind,  slavery  was  right, 
because  it  was  profitable;  and  inwardly  he  pooh-poohed  at 
every  attempt  to  vindicate  or  to  condemn  it  from  a  moral  or 
religious  point  of  view.  He  laid  it  down  as  an  axiom,  that 
slavery  must  exist  just  so  long  as  it  paid. 

"  Worthy  souls,  sir,  these  philanthropists,  —  but  they  want 
the  A-irile  element,  —  the  practical  element,  sir !  Like  women 
and  poets,  they  are  led  by  their  emotions.  If  the  world  were 
in  the  hands  of  such  softs,  the  old  machine  would  be  smashed 
up  in  univei-sal  anarchy." 

Ah,  thou  blind  guide !  These  tender  souls  thou  scornest 
are  they  who  always  prevail  in  the  long  run.  They  prevail, 
because  God  rules  through  them,  and  because  he  does  not  with- 
draw himself  utterly  from  human  affairs  !  They  prevail  be- 
cause Christ's  doctrine  of  self-abnegation,  and  of  justice  and 
love,  is  the  very  central  principle  of  progress,  whether  in  the 
heavens  or  on  the  earth ;  because  it  is  the  keystone  of  the 
arch  by  which  all  things  are  upheld  and  saved  from  chaos. 
Yes,  Divine  duty,  Chai'ity !  "  Thou  dost  preserve  the  stars 
from  wrong,  —  and  the  most  ancient  heavens,  through  thee, 
are  fresh  and  strong  I  " 

Benjamin  Constant  remarked  of  conservative  Talleyrand, 
that  had  he  been  present  at  the  creation  of  all  things,  he  would 
have  exclaimed,  '*  Good  God !  chaos  will  be  destroyed  1 "      Be- 


THE  LAWYER  AND  THE  LADY.  373 

ware  of  the  conservatism  that  would  impede  God's  work  of 
justice  and  of  love ! 

RatclifF,  in  his  last  confidential  interview  with  Semmes,  had 
communicated  to  the  lawyer  all  the  flicts  which  he  himself  was 
in  possession  of  in  regard  to  the  Wliite  Slave.  In  the  quiet 
of  Ratcliff's  library,  Semmes  now  carefully  revolved  and 
weighed  all  these  pai'ticulars.  The  fact  that  Clara  might  be 
wrongfully  held  as  a  slave  made  little  impression  upon  him, 
his  proper  business  being  to  conform  to  his  client's  wishes  and 
to  make  his  client's  claim  as  strong  as  possible,  without  regard 
to  any  other  considerations.  What  puzzled  him  greatly  was 
Madam  Volney's  apparent  interest  in  Clara;  and  as  for  Esha, 
she  was  a  perfect  sphinx  in  her  impenetrability.  As  he  pon- 
dered the  question  of  her  fidehty,  the  thought  occurred  to  him, 
Why  not  learn  something  of  her  antecedents  from  Mrs.  Gen- 
try ?     A  good  idea  ! 

That  very  evening  he  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  "  select 
establishment."  A  bright-faced  black  boy  had  run  up  the  steps 
m  advance  of  him,  and  asked  who  it  was  he  wanted  to  see. 
"Mrs..  Gentry."  "Well,  sir,  she's  in.  Just  give  the  bell  a 
good  pull."  And  the  officious  boy  disappeared.  A  minute  af- 
terwai'ds  the  lawyer  was  seated  in  the  lady's  presence  in  her 
little  parlor. 

"  And  have  you  heard  from  poor  Mr.  Ratcliff  ?  "  she  asked. 
"  He  is  still  in  confinement,  I  beheve,  in  Fort  Lafayette." 
"  Ah  !  is  he,  poor  man  ?  "  returned  the  lady  ;  and  it  was  on 
her  mind  to  add :  "  I  knew  he  would  be  come  up  with !  I  said 
he  would  be  come  up  with  ! "  But  she  repressed  the  exulting 
exclamation,  and  simply  added :  "  Those  horrid  Yankees  !  Do 
you  think,  Mr.  Semmes,  we  are  in  any  danger  from  this  down- 
east  general,  known  as  Picayune  Butler  ?  " 

"Don't  be  under  concern.  Madam.  He  may  be  a  sharp  law- 
yer, but  if  he  ever  comes  to  New  Orleans,  it  will  be  as  a 
prisoner." 

"  And  how  is  Miss  Murray  ?  " 

"  Never  better,  or  handsomer.  And  by  the  way,  I  wish  to 
make  some  inquiries  respecting  the  colored  woman  Esha,  who, 
I  believe,  lived  some  time  in  your  family." 

"Yes,  Esha  Hved  with  me  fifteen  years.     A  capital  cook, 


374  PKCLLIAK. 

and  good  washer  and  ironer.  I  wouldn't  have  parted  with 
her  if  jMr.  Ratcliff  had  n't  been  so  set  on  borrowing  her.  She 
was  here  some  days  ago  about  that  deposition  business." 

"  0  yes,"  said  Semmes,  thoroughly  startled,  yet  concealing 
every  sign  of  surprise,  and  remarking :  "  By  the  way,  how  did 
you  get  through  with  that  business  ?  " 

"  0,  very  well.  Mr.  Jasper  and  the  other  gentlemen  were 
very  polite  and  considerate." 

Jasper  !  He  was  the  counsel  in  the  great  case  of  AVinslow 
versus  Burrows.  Probably  he  was  now  Winslow's  confidential 
agent  and  adviser.  Semmes's  thin,  wiry  hands  closed  together, 
as  if  grasping  a  clew  that  would  lead  him  to  liidden  treasures. 

"  I  hope,"  said  he,  carefully  trying  his  ground,  "  you  were  n't 
incommoded"  by  the  application." 

"  Not  at  all.  I  only  had  to  refer  to  my  account-books,  which 
gave  me  all  the  necessary  dates.  And  as  for  the  child's  clothes, 
they  were  in  an  old  trunk  in  the  garret,  where  they  had  n't  been 
touched  for  fifteen  years.  I  had  forgotten  all  about  them  till 
iVIi'.  Jasper  asked  me  whether  I  had  any  such  articles." 

Semmes  was  still  in  the  dark. 

"  And  was  Esha's  testimony  taken  ?  " 

"  Yes,  though  I  don't  see  of  what  use  it  can  be,  seeing  that 
she 's  a  slave,  and  her  deposition  is  worthless  under  our  laws." 

«  To  what  did  Esha  depose  ?  " 

"  Have  n't  you  seen  the  depositions  ?  " 

"•  0  yes  !  But  not  having  read  them  carefully  as  yet,  I 
should  like  the  benefit  of  your  recollections." 

"  0,  Esha  merely  identified  the  girl's  clothes  and  the  initials 
mai'ked  upon  them,  —  for  she  knows  the  alphabet.  She  also 
remembered  seeing  jSIi'.  Ratcliff  lift  the  child  out  of  the  ba- 
rouche the  day  he  first  called  here.  All  which  was  taken 
down." 

"  Could  you  let  me  see  the  clothes  and  the  account-books  ?  " 

"  I  gave  them  all  up  to  iSIr.  Jasper.  Did  n't  he  tell  you 
so?" 

"  Perhaps.     I  may  have  forgotten." 

Semmes  bade  Mrs.  Gentry  good  evening. 

'"  Headed  off  by  all  that 's  unfortunate ! "  muttered  he,  as  he 
walked   away.     "  And  by   that   smooth  Churchman,  Jasper ! 


THE   LAWYER   AND   THE' LADY.  375 

Why  did  u't  I  think  to  hermetically  seal  up  this  Mrs.  Gentry's 
clack,  and  take  away  all  her  traps  and  books  ?  And  Esha,  — 
if  she  were  n't  playing  false,  she  would  have  reported  all  this  to 
me  at  once.  But  I  '11  let  the  old  hag  see  that,  deep  as  she  is, 
she  is  n't  beyond  the  reach  of  my  plummet.  That  pretended 
brother  of  hei-s,  too  !  He  must  be  looked  after.  I  should  n't 
wonder  if  he  were  a  spy  of  Winslow's.  I  must  venture  upon 
a  coup  d'etat  at  once,  if  I  would  defeat  their  plottings.  How 
shall  I  manage  it?" 

Semmes  had  on  his  books  heavy  charges  against  Ratcliff  for 
professional  services,  and  did  not  care  to  jeopard  their  payment 
by  any  slackness  in  attending  to  that  gentleman's  parting  in- 
junctions. He  saw  he  would  be  justified  in  any  act  of  precau- 
tion, however  extreme,  that  was  undertaken  in  good  faith  to- 
wards his  client.  And  so  he  resolved  on  two  steps  :  one  was  to 
arrest  Esha's  pretended  brother,  and  the  other  to  withdraw 
Clara  from  the  surveillance  of  Esha  and  Madame  Volney. 

Peek  had  not  been  idle  meanwhile.  For  several  weeks  he 
bad  employed  a  boy  to  dog  Semmes's  footsteps  ;  and  when  that 
enterprising  lad  brought  word  of  the  lawyer's  visit  to  Mrs. 
Gentry's,  Peek  saw  that  his  own  communications  with  the 
women  at  Ratcliff's  were  cut  off.  He  immediately  sent  word 
of  the  fact  to  Esha,  and  told  her  to  redouble  her  caution. 

Semmes  waited  three  days  in  the  hope  that  Peek  would 
make  his  appearance ;  but  at  length  growing  impatient,  took 
occasion  to  accost  the  impracticable  Esha. 

"  Esha,  can  that  brother  of  yours  drive  a  carriage  ?  " 

"  O  yes,  massa,  he  can  do  eb'ry  ting." 

"  Well,  Jim  wants  to  go  up  to  Baton  Rouge  to  see  his  wife, 
and  I've  no  objection  to  hiring  your  brother  awhile  in  his 
place." 

"  Dar  's  noting  Jake  would  like  quite  so  well,  massa ;  but 
how  unfortnit  it  am !  —  Jake  's  gone  to  Natchez." 

"  Where  does  Jake  live  when  he  's  here  ?  " 

"  Yah,  yah  !  Dat  's  a  good  joke.  Wliar  does  he  lib  ?  He 
lib  all  'bout  in  spots.  Jake  's  got  more  wives  nor  ole  Brigham 
Young." 

Finding  he  could  make  nothing  out  of  Esha,  Semmes  re- 
solved on  his  second  precaution ;   for  he  felt  that,  with  two 


0/6  PECULIAR. 

plotting  women  against  him,  his  chai-ge  was  likel}-  any  moment 
to  be  abstracted  from  under  his  eyes.  He  had  the  letting  of 
several  vacant  houses,  some  of  them  furnished.  If  he  could 
secretly  transfer  Clara  to  one  of  these,  he  could  guard  and  hold 
her  there  without  being  in  momentary  dread  of  her  escape. 
He  thought  long  and  anxiously,  and  finallv  nodded  his  head  as 
if  the  right  scheme  had  been  hit  upon  at  last. 

Clara  was  an  early  riser.  Every  morning,  in  company  with 
Esha,  she  took  a  promenade  in  the  little  garden  in  the  rear 
of  the  house.  One  moraing  as  they  were  thus  engaged,  and 
Clai*a  was  noticing  the  indications  of  spring  among  the  early 
buds  and  blossoms  (though  it  wiis  yet  March),  a  woman,  newly 
employed  as  a  seamstress  in  the  family,  called  out  from  the 
kitchen  window,  "  O  Esha !  Come  quick  !  Black  Susy  is 
trying  to  catch  Minnie,  to  kill  her  for  stealing  cream."  Minnie 
was  a  favorite  cat,  petted  by  Madame  Volney. 

*'  Don't  let  her  do  it,  Esha  !  "  exclaimed  Clara.  "  Run  quick, 
and  prevent  it  I  " 

Esha  ran.  But  no  sooner  had  she  disappeared  over  the 
threshold  than  Clara,  who  stood  admirmg  an  almond-tree  in 
full  bloom,  felt  a  hood  thrown  over  her  face  from  behind,  while 
both  her  hands  were  seized  to  prevent  resistance.  The  hood 
was  so  strongly  saturated  with  chloroform,  that  almost  before 
she  could  utter  a  cry  she  was  insensible. 

"When  Clai'a  returned  to  consciousness,  she  found  hei-self 
Ijing  on  a  bed  in  a  large  and  elegant  apartment.  The  rich 
Parisian  fui'niture,  the  Turkish  carpet,  and  the  amber-colored 
silk  curtains  told  of  wealth  and  sumptuous  tastes.  Her  fii-st 
movement  was  to  feel  for  the  little  dagger  which  she  carried 
in  a  sheath  in  a  hidden  pocket.  She  found  it  was  safe.  The 
windows  were  open,  and  the  pleasant  morning  breeze  came  in 
soft  and  cool. 

As  she  raised  herself  on  her  elbow  and  looked  about,  a 
woman  wearing  the  white  starched  linen  bonnet  of  a  Sister  of 
Charity  rose  from  a  chair  and  stood  before  her.  The  face  of 
this  woman  had  a  tender  and  serious  expression,  but  the  head 
showed  a  deficiency  in  the  intellectual  regions.  Indeed,  Sister 
Agatha  was  at  once  a  saint  and  a  simpleton  ;  credulous  as  a 
child,  though  pious  as  Ignatius  himself.     She  was  not  in  truth 


THE   LAWYER   AND   THE  LADY.  377 

a  recognized  member  of  the  intelligent  order  whose  garb  she 
wore.  She  had  been  rejected  because  of  those  very  traits  she 
now  revealed ;  but  being  regarded  as  harmless,  she  was  suf- 
fered to  play  the  Sister  on  her  own  account,  procuring  alms 
from  the  chaii table,  and  often  using  them  discreetly.  Havino- 
called  at  Semmes's  office  on  a  begging  visit,  he  had  recognized 
in  her  a  fitting  tool,  and  had  secured  her  confidence  by  a  liberal 
contribution  and  an  affectation  of  rare  piety. 

"  How  do  you  feel  now,  my  dear  ?  "  asked  Agatha. 
"  What  has  happened  ?  "  said  Clara,  trying  to  recall  the  cir- 
cumstances which  had  led  to  her  present  position.     "  Who  are 
you  ?     Where  's  Esha  ?     Why  is  not  Josepliine  here  ?  " 

"  There  !  don't  get  excited,"  said  the  sister.  "  Your  poor 
brain  has  been  in  a  whirl,  —  that 's  all." 

"  Please  tell  me  who  you  are,  and  why  I  am  here,  and  what 
has  happened." 

"  I  am  Sister  Agatha.  I  have  been  engaged  by  Mr.  Semmes 
to  take  care  of  you.  A¥hat  has  happened  is,  —  you  have  had 
one  of  your  bad  turns,  that 's  all." 

Clara  pondered  the  past  silently  for  a  full  minute;  then, 
turning  to  the  woman,  said  :  "  You  would  not  knowingly  do  a 
bad  act.  I  get  that  assurance  from  your  face.  Have  they  told 
you  I  was  insane  ?  " 

"  There,  dear,  be  quiet !  Lie  down,  and  don't  distress  your- 
self," said  Sister  Agatha.  "  We  '11  have  some  breakfast  for 
you  soon." 

"  You  speak  of  my  having  had  a  bad  turn,"  resumed  Clara. 
"  What  sort  of  a  bad  turn  ?     A  fit  ?  " 
"  Yes,  dear,  a  fit." 

"  Come  nearer  to  me.  Sister  Agatha.  Don't  you  perceive 
an  odor  of  chloroform  on  my  clothes  ?  " 

''  Why  not  ?  They  gave  it  for  your  relief." 
"  No  ;  they  gave  it  to  render  me  powerless,  that  they  might 
bring  me  without  a  struggle  to  this  place  out  of  the  reacl^of 
the  two  friends  with  whom  I  have  been  living.  Sister  Agatha, 
don't  let  them  deceive  you.  Do  I  talk  or  look  like  an  insane 
person  ?  Do  not  fear  to  answer  me.  I  shall  not  be  offended." 
"  Yes,  child,  you  both  talk  and  look  as  if  you  were  not  in 
your  right  mind.     So  be  a  good  girl  and  compose  yourself." 


378  PECULIAR. 

Clara  stepped  on  the  floor,  walked  to  the  window,  and  saw 
that  she  was  in  the  third  story  of  a  spacious  house.  She  tried 
the  doors.  They  were  all  locked,  with  the  exception  of  one 
wliich  communicated  by  a  little  entry,  occupied  by  closets,  with 
a  coiTCsponding  room  which  looked  out  on  tfie  street  from  the 
front. 

"  I  am  a  prisoner  witliin  these  rooms,  am  I  ?  "  asked  Clara. 

"  Yes,  there  's  no  way  by  wliich  you  can  get  out.  But  here 
is  everything  comfortable,  you  see.  In  the  front  room  you  will 
find  a  piano  and  a  case  of  pious  books.  Here  is  a  bathing- 
room,  where  you  can  have  hot  water  or  cold.  This  door  on 
my  right  leads  to  a  billiard-table,  where  you  can  go  and  play, 
if  you  are  good.     You  need  not  lack  for  air  or  exercise." 

"  "When  can  I  see  Mr.  Semmes  ?  " 

*'  He  promised  to  be  here  by  ten  o'clock." 

"  Do  not  fail  to  let  me  see  him  when  he  comes.  Sister  Agatha, 
is  there  any  way  by  wliich  I  can  prove  to  you  I  am  not  insane  ?  " 

"  No ;  because  the  more  shrewd  and  sensible  you  are,  the 
more  I  shall  tliink  you  are  out  of  your  head.  Insane  people 
are  always  cunning.  You  have  showed  great  cunning  in  all 
you  have  said  and  done." 

"  Then  if  I  turn  simple,  you  will  think  I  am  recovering,  eh  ?  " 

"  No  ;  I  shall  think  you  are  feigning.  Why,  I  once  passed 
a  whole  day  with  a  crazy  woman,  and  never  one  moment  sus- 
pected she  was  crazy  till  I  was  told  so." 

"  Who  told  you  I  am  crazy  ?  " 

"  The  gentleman  who  engaged  me  to  attend  you,  —  Mr. 
Semmes." 

"  Am  I  crazy  only  on  one  point  or  on  many  ?  " 

"  You  ought  to  know  best.  I  believe  you  are  what  they  call 
a  monomaniac.  You  are  crazy  on  the  subject  of  freedom.  You 
want  to  be  free." 

"  But,  Sister  Agatha,  if  you  were  shut  up  in  a  house  against 
your  will,  would  n't  you  desire  to  be  free  ?  " 

"  There  it  is  !  I  knew  you  would  put  things  cunningly.  But 
I  'm  prepared  for  it.  You  must  n't  think  to  deceive  me.  child, 
Why  not  be  honest,  and  confess  your  wits  are  wandering  ?  " 

The  door  of  the  communicating  room  was  here  unlocked. 

*•  What 's  that  ?  "  asked  Clara. 


THE   LAWYER   AND   THE   LADY.  379 

"  They  are  bringing  in  your  breakfast,"  said  the  sister.  *^  I 
hope  you  have  an  appetite." 

Though  faint  and  sick  at  heart,  Clara  resolved  to  conceal  her 
emotions.     So  she  sat  down  and  made  a  show  of  eating. 

"  I  will  leave  you  awliile,"  said  the  sister.  "  If  you  want 
anything,  you  can  ring." 

Left  to  herself,  Clara  rose  and  promenaded  the  apartment, 
her  thoughts  intently  turned  inward  to  a  survey  of  her  position. 
Why  had  she  been  removed  to  this  new  abode  ?  Plainly  be- 
cause Semmes  feared  she  would  be  aided  by  her  companions  in 
baffling  liis  vigilance  and  effecting  her  escape.  Clara  knelt  by 
the  bedside  and  prayed  for  light  and  guidance  ;  and  an  inward 
voice  seemed  to  say  to  her :  "  You  talk  of  trusting  God,  and 
yet  you  only  half  trust  him." 

What  could  it  mean?  Clara  meditated  upon  it  long  and 
anxiously.  What  had  been  her  motive  in  procuring  the  dag- 
ger !  A  mixed  motive  and  vague.  Perhaps  it  was  to  take  her 
own  life,  perhaps  another's.  Had  she  not  reached  that  point 
of  faith  that  she  could  believe  God  would  save  her  from  both 
these  alternatives  ?  Yes  ;  she  would  doubt  no  longer.  Walk- 
ing to  the  back  window  she  drew  the  dagger  from  its  sheath 
and  tlirew  it  far  out  into  a  clump  of  rose-bushes  that  gi^ew  rank 
in  the  centre  of  the  area. 

The  key  turned  in  the  door,  and  Sister  Agatha  appeared. 

"  Mr.  Semmes  is  here.     Can  he  come  in  ?  " 

"  Yes.     I  've  been  waiting  for  him." 

The  sister  withdrew  and  the  gentleman  entered. 

"  Sit  down,"  said  Clara.  "  For  what  purpose  am  I  confined 
here  ?  " 

"  My  dear  young  lady,  you  desire  to  be  treated  with  frank- 
ness. You  are  sensible,  —  you  are  well  educated,  —  you  are 
altogether  charming ;  but  you  are  a  slave." 

"  Stop  there,  sir !     How  do  you  know  I  'm  a  slave  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  am  bound  to  take  the  testimony  of  my  client, 
an  honorable  gentleman,  on  that  point." 

"  Have  you  examined  the  record  !  Can  Mr.  RatcUff  pro- 
duce any  evidence  that  the  chUd  he  bought  was  white  ?  Look 
at  me.  Look  at  this  arm.  Do  you  believe  my  parentage  is 
other  than  pure  Saxon  ?     If  that  does  n't  shake  your  belief, 


380  PECULIAR. 

let  me  tell  you  that  I  have  proofs  that  I  am  the  only  surviving 
child  of  that  same  ]SIr.  and  Mrs.  Berwick  who  were  lost  more 
than  fourteen  years  ago  in  a  steamboat  explosion  on  the  Missis- 
sippi." 

"  Proofs  ?  You  have  proofs  ?  Impossible  !  What  are 
they?" 

"  That  I  do  not  choose  to  tell  you.  Only  I  warn  you  that 
the  proofs  exist,  and  that  you  are  lending  yourself  to  a  fraud 
in  helping  your  client  to  hold  me  as  a  slave." 

"  My  dear  young  lady,  don't  encourage  such  wild,  romantic 
dreams.  Some  one,  for  a  wicked  purpose,  has  put  them  into 
your  head.  The  only  child  of  Mr.  and  i\L's.  Berwick  was  lost 
with  them,  as  was  clearly  proved  on  the  trial  that  grew  out  of 
the  disaster,  and  their  large  property  passed  into  the  possession 
of  a  distant  connection." 

.  "  But  what  if  the  story  of  the  child's  loss  was  a  lie,  —  wliat 
if  she  was  saved,  —  then  kidnapped,  —  then  sold  as  a  slave  ? 
"What  if  she  now  stands  before  you  ?  " 

"  As  a  lawyer  I  must  say,  I  don't  see  it.  And  even  if  it 
were  all  true,  what  an  incalculable  advantage  the  man  who 
has  milUons  in  possession  will  have  over  any  claimant  who 
can't  offer  a  respectable  fee  in  advance  !  Who  holds  the  purse- 
strings,  wins.     'T  is  an  invariable  rule,  my  child." 

"  God  will  defend  the  right,  ^h:  Semmes ;  and  I  advise  you 
to  range  yourself  on  his  side  forthwith." 

"  It  would  n't  do  for  me  to  desert  my  client.  That  would  be 
grossly  unprofessional." 

"  Even  if  satisfied  your  client  was  in  the  wrong  ?  " 

"  My  dear  young  lady,  that 's  just  the  predicament  where  a 
lawyer's  services  are  most  needed.     What  can  I  do  for  you  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  for  I  'm  not  in  the  wrong.  My  cause  is  that  of 
justice  and  humanity.     You  cannot  serve  it." 

"  In  that  remark  you  wound  my  amour  propre.  Now  let  me 
put  the  case  for  my  client :  Accidentally  attending  an  auction 
he  buys  an  infant  slave.  He  brings  her  up  tenderly  and  w^ell. 
He  spares  no  expense  in  her  education.  No  sooner  does  she 
reach  a  marriageable  age,  than,  discarding  all  gratitude  for  his 
kindness,  she  runs  away.  He  discovers  her,  and  she  is  brought 
to  his  house.     His  wife  dying,  he  proposes  to  marry  and  eman- 


'  THE  LAWYER  AND  THE  LADY.  381 

cipate  this  ungrateful  young  woman.  Instead  of  being  touched 
by  his  generosity,  she  plots  to  baffle  and  disappoint  him.  Who 
could  blame  him  if  he  were  to  put  her  up  at  auction  to-mor- 
row and  sell  her  to  the  highest  bidder  ?  " 

"  If  you  speak  in  sincerity,  sir,  then  you  are,  morally  consid- 
ered, blind  as  an  owl ;  if  in  raillery,  then  you  are  cruel  as  a 
wolf" 

"  My  dear  young  lady,  you  show  in  your  every  remark  that 
you  are  a  cultivated  person ;  that  you  are  naturally  clever,  and 
that  education  has  added  its  polish.  How  charming  it  would 
be  to  see  one  so  gifted  and  accomplished  placed  in  that  position 
of  wealth  and  rank  which  she  would  so  well  adorn  !  There 
must  never  be  unpleasant  words  between  me  and  the  future 
Mrs.  Ratcliff,  —  never ! " 

"  Then,  sir,  you  're  safe,  however  angrily  I  may  speak." 

"  Your  pin-money  alone,  my  dear  young  lady,  will  be  enough 
to  support  half  a  dozen  ordinary  famihes." 

Clara  made  no  reply,  and  Semmes  continued :  "  Think  of  it ! 
First,  the  tour  of  Europe  in  princely  style ;  then  a  return  to 
the  most  splendid  estabUshment  in  Louisiana  !  " 

"  Well,  sir,  if  your  eloquence  is  exhausted,  you  can  do  me  a 
favor." 

"  What  is  it,  my  dear  young  lady  ?  " 

"Leave  the  room." 

"  Certainly.  By  the  way,  I  expect  Mr.  Ratcliff  any  hour 
now." 

"  I  thought  he  was  in  Fort  Lafayette  ! "  replied  Clara,  trying 
to  steady  her  voice  and  conceal  her  agitation. 

"  No.  He  succeeded  in  escaping.  His  letter  is  dated  Rich- 
mond." 

Clara  made  no  reply,  and  the  old  lawyer  passed  out,  mutter- 
ing :  "  Poor  little  simpleton.  'T  is  only  a  freak.  No  woman  in 
her  senses  could  resist  such  an  offer.  She  '11  thank  me  one  of 
these  days  for  my  anaesthetic  practice." 


382  PECULIAR 

CHAPTER    XXXIX. 

SEEING  IS  BELIE\^NG. 

"  It  Is  a  very  obvious  principle,  although  often  forgotten  in  the  pride  of  prejudice  and 
of  controversy,  that  what  has  been  seen  by  one  pair  of  human  eyes  is  of  force  to  coun- 
tervail all  that  has  been  reasoned  or  guessed  at  by  a  thousand  human  understand- 
ings."—  Rev.  Thomas  Chalmers. 

WHEN,  after  some  detention,  Esha  returned  to  the  gar- 
den, and  could  not  see  Clara,  she  ran  up-stairs  and 
sought  her  in  all  the  rooms.  Then  returning  to  the  garden 
she  looked  in  the  summer-house,  in  the  grape-arbor,  every- 
where without  avail.  Suddenly  she  caught  sight  of  a  small 
black  girl,  a  sort  of  under-dnidge  in  the  kitchen,  who  was 
standmg  with  mouth  distended,  showing  her  white  teeth,  and 
grinning  at  Esha's  discomfiture.  It  was  the  work  of  a  moment 
for  Esha  to  seize  the  hussy,  drag  her  into  the  wash-house,  and 
by  the  aid  of  certain  squeezings,  liberally  applied  to  her  cer- 
vical vertebrce,  to  compel  her  to  extrude  the  fact  that  Missie 
Clara  had  been  forcibly  carried  off  by  two  men,  and  placed  in 
a  carriage,  which  had  been  driven  fast  away.  " 

When  Esha  communicated  this  startling  information  to  Ma- 
dame Yolney,  the  wrath  of  the  latter  was  terrible  to  behold.  It 
was  well  for  Lawyer  Semmes  that  his  good  stars  kept  him  that 
moment  from  encountering  the  quadroon  lady,  else  a  sudden 
stop  might  have  been  put  to  his  professional  usefulness. 

After  she  had  recovered  from  her  first  shock  of  anger,  she 
asked :  "  Why  has  n't  Peek  been  here  these  five  days  ?  " 

''  'Cause  he  'eluded  't  wan't  safe,"  replied  Esha.  "  He  seed 
ole  Semmes  wai-  up  ter  su'thin,  an'  so  he  keep  dark." 

"  Well,  Esha,  we  must  see  Peek.  You  know  where  he 
lives  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Missis,  but  we  mus'  be  car'fiil  'bout  lettin'  anybody 
foller  us." 

"  We  can  look  out  for  that.     Come  !     Let  us  start  at  once." 

The  two  women  sallied  forth  into  the  street,  and  proceeded 


SEEING  IS   BELIEVING.  383 

some  distance,  Esha  looking  frequently  behind  with  a  caution 
that  proved  to  be  not  ill-timed.  Suddenly  she  darted  across 
the  street,  and  going  up  to  a  negro-boy  who  stood  looking  with 
iin  air  of  profound  interest  at  some  snuff-boxes  and  pipes  in 
the  window  of  a  tobacconist,  seized  him  by  the  wool  of  his 
head  and  pulled  him  towards  a  carriage-stand,  where  she  ac- 
costed a  colored  diiver  of  her  acquaintance,  and  said :  "  Look 
har,  Jube,  you  jes  put  dis  little  debble  ob  a  spy  on  de  box  wid 
yer,  and  gib  him  a  twenty  minutes'  dribe,  an'  den  take  him  to 
Massa  Ratcliff's,  open  de  door,  an'  pitch  him  in,  an'  I  '11  gib 
yer  half  a  dollar  ef  yer  '11  do  it  right  off  an'  ahx  no  questions ; 
an'  ef  he  dars  ter  make  a  noise  you  jes  put  yer  fingers  har, 
—  dy'e  see,  —  and  pinch  his  win'pipe  tight.  Doan  let  him  git 
away  on  no  account  whatsomebber." 

"  Seein'  as  how  jobs  air  scarss,  Esha,  doan'  car  ef  I  do ;  so 
hahnd  him  up." 

Esha  lifted  the  boy  so  that  Jube  could  seize  him  by  the 
slack  of  his  breeches  and  pull  him  howling  on  to  the  driver's 
seat.  Then  promising  a  faithful  compliance  with  Esha's  or- 
ders,,  he  received  the  half-dollar  with  a  grin,  and  drove  off. 
Rejoining  Madame  Yolney,  Esha  conducted  her  through  lanes 
and  by-streete  till  they  stopped  before  the  house  occupied  by 
Peek.     He  was  at  home,  and  asked  them  in. 

''Are  you  sure  you  were  n't  followed?"  was  his  first  in- 
quiry. Esha  replied  by  narrating  the  summary  proceedings 
she  had  taken  to  get  rid  of  the  youth  who  had  evidently  been 
put  as  a  spy  on  her  track. 

"That  was  well  done,  Esha,"  said  Peek.  "Remember 
you  've  got  the  shai^est  kind  of  an  old  lawyer  to  deal  with ; 
and  you  must  skin  your  eyes  tight  if  you  'spect  to  'scape  being 
tripped." 

"  Wish  I  'd  thowt  ob  dat  dis  mornin',  Peek ;  for  ole  Semmes 
has  jes  done  his  wustest,  —  carried  off  dat  darlin'  chUe,  Miss 
Clara." 

Peek  could  hardly  suppress  a  groan  at  the  news. 
"  Now  what 's  to  be  done  ?  "  said  Madame  Vohiey.     "  Think 
of  something  quickly,  or  I  shxdl  go  mad.     That  smooth-tongued 
Semmes,  —  O  that  I  had  the  old  scoundrel  here  in  my  grip ! 
Can't  you  find  out  where  he  has  taken  that  dear  child  .^  " 


384  PECULIAH. 

"  That  will  be  difficult,  I  fear,"  said  Peek  ;  "  difficult  for  the 
reason  that  Semmes  will  be  on  the  alert  to  baffle  us.  He  will 
of  coui-se  conclude  that  some  of  us  will  be  on  his  track.  Pie 
would  turn  any  effiarts  we  might  make  to  dog  him  directly 
against  us,  arresting  us  wlien  we  thought  ourselves  most  secure, 
just  as  the  boy-detective  was  arrested  by  Esha." 

"  But  what  if  Ratcliff  should  return  ?  " 

"  That 's  what  disturbs  me ;  for  the  papers  say  he  has  es- 
caped." 

"  Then  he  may  be  here  any  moment  ?  " 

"  For  that  we  must  be  prepared." 

"  But  that  is  horrible  !  I  pledged  my  word  —  my  very  life 
—  that  the  poor  child  should  be  saved  from  his  clutches.  She 
must  be  saved !     Money  can  do  it,  —  can't  it  ?  " 

"  Brains  can  do  it  better." 

"  Let  both  be  used.  Is  not  this  a  case  where  some  medium 
can  help  us  ?     Why  not  consult  Bender  ?  " 

"  There  is,  perhaps,  one  chance  in  a  hundred  that  he  might 
guide  us  aright,"  said  Peek.  "  That  chance  I  will  try,  but  I 
have  little  hope  he  will  find  her.  During  the  years  I  have 
been  searching  for  my  wife  I  have  now  and  then  sought  infor- 
mation about  her  from  clairvoyants ;  but  always  without  suc- 
cess. The  kingdom  of  God  cometh  not  with  observation.  So 
with  these  spiritual  doipgs.  Look  for  them,  and  you  don't  find 
them.  Don't  look,  and  they  come.  I  once  knew  a  colored 
boy,  a  medium,  who  was  lifted  to  the  ceiling  before  my  eyes  in 
the  clear  moonlight.  A  white  man  offered  him  a  hundred  dol- 
lars if  he  would  show  him  the  same  thing ;  but  it  could  n't  be. 
No  sooner  had  the  white  man  gone  than  the  boy  was  lifted, 
while  the  rest  of  us  were  not  expecting  it,  and  carried  back- 
ward and  forward  thi'ough  the  ah'  for  a  full  minute.  Seeing  is 
believing." 

"  But  we  've  no  time  for  talking,  Peek.  We  must  act.  Bow 
shall  we  act  ? " 

''  Can  you  give  me  any  article  of  apparel  which  Miss  Clara 
has  recently  worn,  —  a  glove,  for  instance  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that  can  easily  be  got." 

"  Send  it  to  me  at  once.  Send  also  a  glove  which  the  lawyer 
has  worn.  Do  not  let  the  two  come  in  contact.  And  be  careful 
your  messenger  is  not  tracked." 


SEEING  IS  BELIEVING.  385 

"  Do  you  mean  to  take  the  gloves  to  a  clairvoyant  ?  " 

"  Not  to  a  clear-see'er,  but  to  a  clear-smeller,  —  in  short,  to 
a  four-footed  medium,  a  bloodhound  of  my  acquaintance." 

"  0,  but  what  hound  can  keep  the  scent  through  our  streets  ?  " 

"  If  any  one  can,  Victor  can." 

"  Well,  only  do  something,  and  that  quickly,  for  I  'm  dis- 
tracted," said  Madame  Volney,  her  tears  flowing  profusely. 
"  Come,  Esha,  we  '11  take  a  carriage  at  the  corner,  and  drive 
home." 

"  Not  at  the  comer  ! "  interposed  Peek.  "  Go  to  some  more 
distant  stand.     Move  always  as  if  a  spy  were  at  your  heels." 

The  two  women  passed  into  the  street.  Half  an  hour  after- 
wards Esha  returned  with  the  glove.  There  was  a  noise  of 
firing. 

"  Dem  guns  am  fur  de  great  vict'ry  down  below,"  said  Esha. 
"  De  Yankees,  dey  say,  hab  been  beat  off  han'some  at  Fort 
Jackson ;  an'  ole  Farragut  he 's  backed  out ;  fines  he  can't 
come  it.  But,  jes  you  wait,  Peek.  Dese  Yankees  hab  au 
awful  way  of  holdin'  on.  Dey  doan  know  when  dey  air  fair 
beat.  Dey  crow  loudest  jes  when  dey  owt  ter  shut  up  and 
gib  in." 

Esha  slipped  out  of  the  house,  looking  up  and  down  the 
street  to  see  if  she  were  watched,  and  Peek  soon  afterwards 
passed  out  and  walked  rapidly  in  the  direction  of  St.  Genevieve 
Street.  The  great  thoroughfares  were  filled  with  crowds  of 
excited  people.  The  stars  and  bars,  emblem  of  the  perpetuity 
of  slavery,  were  flaunted  in  his  face  at  every  crossing.  The 
newspapers  that  morning  had  boasted  how  impregnable  were 
the  defences.  The  hated  enemy  —  the  mean  and  cowardly 
Yankees  —  had  received  their  most  humiliating  rebuff.  Forts 
Jackson  and  St.  Philip  and  the  Confederate  ram  had  proved 
too  much  for  them. 

Peek  stopped  at  a  small  three-story  brick  house  of  rather 
shabby  exterior  and  rang  the  bell.  The  door  was  opened  by 
an  obese  black  woman  with  a  flaming  red  and  yellow  handker- 
chief on  her  head.  In  the  entry-way  a  penetrating  odor  of 
fried  sausages  rushed  upward  from  the  kitchen  and  took  him 
by  the  throat. 

"  Does  Mr.  Bender  board  here  ?  " 

17  T 


386  PECULIAR. 

"  Yes,  sar,  go  up  two  pair  ob  stairs,  an'  knock  at  de  fust  door 
yer  see,  an'  he  11  come." 

Peek  did  as  he  was  directed.  "  J.  Bender^  Consulting  Me- 
dium" appeared  and  asked  him  in.  A  young  and  not  ill-look- 
ing man,  in  shabby-genteel  attire.  Shirt  dirty,  but  the  bosom 
ornamented  with  gold  studs.  Vest  of  silk  worked  with  sprigs 
of  flowei-s  in  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow.  His  coat  had  been 
thrown  off.  His  pantaloons  were  of  the  light-blue  material 
which  the  war  was  making  fashionable.  He  was  smoking  a 
cigar,  and  his  breath  exhaled  a  suspicion  of  whiskey. 

"  How  is  business,  IVIr.  Bender  ?  "  asked  Peek. 

"  Very  slim  just  now,"  said  Bender.  "  This  war  fills  peo- 
ple's minds.     Can  I  do  anything  for  you  to-day  ?  " 

"  Yes.  You  remember  the  young  woman  at  the  house  I 
took  you  to  the  other  day,  —  the  one  whose  name  you  said  was 
Clara?" 

"  I  remember.  She  paid  me  handsomely.  Much  obliged  to 
you  for  taking  me.     Will  you  have  a  sip  of  Bourbon  ?  " 

"  Xo,  thank  you.  I  don't  believe  in  anything  stronger  than 
water.  I  want  to  know  if  you  can  tell  me  where  in  the  city 
that  young  lady  now  is." 

Bender  put  down  his  cigar,  clasped  his  hands,  laid  them  on 
the  table,  and  closed  his  eyes.  In  a  minute  his  whole  face 
seemed  transfigured.  A  certain  sensual  expression  it  had  worn 
was  displaced  by  one  of  rapt  and  tender  interest.  The  lids  of 
the  eyes  hung  loosely  over  the  uprolled  balls.  He  looked  five 
years  younger.  He  sighed  several  times  heavily,  moved  his 
lips  and  throat  as  if  laboring  to  speak,  and  then  seemed  ab- 
sorbed as  if  witnessing  unspeakable  things.  He  remained  thus 
four  or  five  minutes,  and  then  put  out  his  hands  and  placed 
them  on  one  of  Peek's. 

"  Ah  !  this  is  a  good  hand,"  said  the  young  seer ;  "  I  like  the 
feel  of  it.     I  wish  his  would  speak  as  well  of  him." 

"  Of  whom  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Of  this  one  whose  hands  ai-e  on  yours.  Ah !  he  is  weak 
and  you  are  strong.  He  knows  the  right,  but  he  will  not  do 
the  right.  He  knows  there  is  a  heaven,  and  yet  he  walks 
heUward." 

"  Can  we  not  save  him  ?  "  asked  Peek. 


SEEING  IS  BELIEVING.  387 

"  No.     His  own  bitter  experiences  must  be  his  tutor." 

"  Why  will  he  try  to  deceive,"  asked  Peek  ;  —  "to  deceive 
sometimes  even  in  these  manifestations  of  his  wonderful  gift  ?  " 

"  You  see  it  is  the  very  condition  of  that  gift  that  he  should 
be  impressible  to  influences  whether  good  or  bad.  He  takes 
his  color  from  the  society  which  encamps  around  him.  Some- 
times, as  now,  the  good  ones  come,  and  then  so  bitterly  he 
bewails  his  faults  !  Sometimes  the  bad  get  full  possession  of 
him,  and  he  is  what  they  will,  —  a  di-unkard,  a  liar,  a  thief,  a 
scoffer.  Yes  !  I  have  known  him  to  scoff  at  these  great  facts 
which  make  spirit  existence  to  him  a  certainty." 

"  Can  I  help  him  in  any  way  ?  Will  money  aid  him  to 
throw  off  the  bad  influences?" 

"  No.  Poor  as  he  is,  he  has  too  much  money.  He  does  n't 
know  the  true  uses  of  it.  He  must  learn  them  through  suffer- 
ing. Leave  him  to  the  discipline  of  the  earth-life.  You  know 
what  that  is.  How  much  you  have  passed  through !  How 
sad,  and  yet  how  brave  and  cheerful  you  have  been !  It  all 
comes  to  me  as  I  press  the  palm  of  your  hand.  Ah !  you  have 
sought  her  so  long  and  earnestly  !  And  you  cannot  find  her  ! 
And  you  think  she  is  faithful  to  you  still ! " 

"Yes,  and  neither  mortal  nor  spirit  could  make  me  think 
otherwise.     But  tell  me  where  I  shall  look  for  her." 

The  young  man  lifted  the  black  hand  to  his  white  forehead 
and  pressed  the  palm  there  for  a  moment,  and  then,  with  a 
sigh,  laid  it  gently  on  the  table,  and  said  :  "  It  is  of  no  use.  I 
get  confused  impressions,  —  nothing  clear  and  forcible.  Why 
have  you  not  consulted  me  before  about  your  wife  ?  " 

"  Because,  first,  I  wished  to  leave  it  to  you  to  find  out  what 
I  wanted ;  and  this  you  have  done  at  last.  Secondly,  I  did  not 
lliink  I  could  trust  you,  or  rather  the  intelligences  that  might 
speak  through  you.  But  you  have  been  more  candid  than  I 
expected.  You  have  not  pretended,  as  you  often  do,  to  more 
knowledge  than  you  really  possess." 

"  The  reason  is,  that  I  am  now  admitted  into  a  state  where 
I  can  look  down  on  myself  as  from  a  higher  plane  ;  so  that  I 
feel  like  a  different  being  from  myself,  and  must  distinguish  be- 
tween me,  as  I  now  am,  and  him  as  he  usually  is.  Do  you 
know  what  is  truly  the  hell  of  evil-doers  ?     It  is  to  see  them- 


888  PF.CULIAR. 

selves  as  they  are,  and  God  as  he  is.*  These  tame  preachei-s 
rave  about  hell-fire  and  lakes  of  sulphur.  What  poor,  feeble, 
halting  imaginations  they  have  Better  beds  of  biimstone 
than  a  couch  of  down  on  wliich  one  lies  seeing  what  he  mifrht 
have  been,  but  is  n't,  —  then  seeing  what  he  is  /  But  pardon 
me  ;  your  mind  is  preoccupied  with  the  business  on  wliich  you 
came.     You  are  anxious  and  impatient." 

"  Can  you  tell  me."  asked  Peek,  "  what  it  is  about  ?  " 

The  clairvoyant  folded  his  arms,  and,  bending  down  his  head, 
seemed  for  a  minute  lost  in  contemplation.  Then  looking  up 
(if  that  can  be  said  of  him  while  his  external  eyes  were 
closed),  he  remarked :  "  The  bloodhound  will  put  you  through. 
Only  persevere." 

"  And  is  that  all  you  can  tell  me  ?  "  inquired  Peek. 

"  Yes.     Why  do  you  seem  disappointed  ?  " 

"  Because  you  merely  give  me  the  reflection  of  what  is  in 
my  own  mind.  You  offer  me  no  information  which  may  not 
have  come  straight  from  your  own  power  of  thought-reading. 
You  show  me  no  proof  that  your  promise  may  not  be  simply 
the  product  of  my  own  sanguine  calculations." 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  how  it  is,"  replied  the  clairvoyant ;  "  I 
say  what  I  am  impressed  to  say.  I  cannot  argue  the  point 
with  you,  for  I  have  no  reasons  to  give." 

"  Then  I  must  go.     What  shall  I  pay  ?  " 

"  Pay  him  his  usual  fee,  two  dollars.     Not  a  cent  more." 

The  clairvoyant  sighed  heavily,  and  leaning  his  elbows  on  the 
table,  covered  liis  face  with  his  hands.  He  remained  in  this 
posture  for  nearly  a  minute.  Suddenly  he  dropped  his  hands, 
shook  himself,  and  started  up.  His  eyes  were  open.  He 
stared  wildly  about,  then  seemed  to  slip  back  into  his  old  self. 
The  former  unctuous,  villanous  expression  returned  to  his  face. 
He  looked  round  for  his  half-smoked  cigar,  which  he  took  up 
and  relighted. 

Peek  drew  two  dollai*s  from  a  purse,  and  offered  them  to  him. 

"  I  reckon  you  can  afford  more  than  that,"  said  ]SIr.  Bender. 

"  That 's  your  regular  fee,"  replied  Peek.  "  I  have  n't  been 
here  half  an  hour." 

*  The  actual  definition  given  by  E.  A.,  one  of  the  Rev.  Chauncy  Hare 
Townshend's  mesmerized  subjects. 


SEEING  IS  BELIEVING.  389 

*'  O  well,  we  won't  dispute  about  it,"  said  the  medium,  thrust- 
ing the  rags  into  a  pocket  of  liis  vest. 

Peek  left  the  house,  the  dinner-bell  sounding  as  he  passed 
out,  and  another  whiff  from  the  breath  of  the  sausage-fiend 
that  presided  over  that  household  pursuing  him  into  the  street. 

The  coui'se  he  now  took  was  through  stately  streets  occupied 
by  large  and  showy  houses.  He  stopped  before  one,  on  the 
door-plate  of  which  was  the  name,  Lovell.  Here  his  friend 
Lafour  lived  as  coachman.  For  two  weeks  they  had  not  met. 
Peek  was  about  to  pass  round  and  ring  at  the  servant's  door  on 
the  basement  story  of  the  side,  when  an  orange  w^as  thro^A'n 
from  an  upper  window  and  fell  near  his  feet.  Pie  looked  up. 
An  old  black  Avoman  was  gesticulating  to  him  to  go  away. 
Peek  was  quick  to  take  a  hint.  He  strolled  away  as  far  as  he 
could  get  without  losing  sight  of  the  house.  Soon  he  saw  the 
old  woman  hobble  out  and  approach  him.  He  slipped  into  an 
arched  passage-way,  and  she  joined  him. 

"  What 's  the  matter,  mother  ?  " 

"  Matter  enough.  De  debble's  own  time,  and  all  troo  you. 
Peek.     I  'se  been  watchin'  fur  yer  all  de  time  dese  five  days." 

"  Exphiin  yourself  How  have  I  brought  trouble  on  An- 
toine?" 

"  Dat  night  you  horrid  de  ole  man's  carriage,  —  dat  Avas  de 
mischief  Policeman  come  las'  week,  an'  take  Antoine  off  ter 
de  calaboose.  Tree  times  dey  lash  him  ter  make  him  tell  whar 
dey  can  fiaid  you ;  but  he  tell  'em,  so  help  him  God,  he  dun 
know  noting  'bout  yer." 

Peek  reflected  for  a  moment,  and  then  recalled  the  fact  that 
Myers,  the  detective,  had  got  sight  of  the  coat-of-arms  on  the 
carriage.     Yes  !  the  clew  was  sHght,  but  it  was  sufiicient. 

"My  poor  Antoine!"  said  Peek.  "Must  he,  then,  sufi^er 
for  me  ?  Tell  me,  mother,  what  has  become  of  Victor,  his 
dog?" 

"  Goramity !  dat  dog  know  more  'n  half  de  niggers.  He 
wouldn't  stay  in  dat  house  alifer  Antoine  lef;  couldn't  make 
him  do  it,  no  how." 

"  Where  shall  I  be  likely  to  find  the  dog  ?  " 

"  'Bout  de  streets  somewhar,  huntin'  fur  Antoine.  Ef  dat 
dumb  critter  could  talk,  he  'd  'stonish  us  all." 


390  PECULIAR. 

"  Well,  motlier,  tliaiik  you  for  all  your  trouble.  Here  's  a 
dollar  to  buy  a  pair  of  shoes  with.     Good  by." 

The  old  woman's  eyes  snapped  as  she  clutched  the  money, 
and  with  a  "  Bress  yer,  Peek  !  "  hobbled  away. 

The  rest  of  that  day  Peek  devoted  to  a  search  for  Victor. 
He  sought  him  near  the  stable, — in  the  bkcksniith's  shop, — 
in  the  mai-ket,  —  at  the  few  houses  which  Antoine  frequented ; 
but  no  Victor  could  be  found.  At  last,  late  at  night,  weary 
and  desponding.  Peek  retraced  his  steps  homeward  ;  and  as  he 
took  out  the  door-key  to  enter  the  house,  the  dog  he  had  been 
looking  for  rose  from  the  upper  step,  and  came  down  wagging 
his  tail,  and  uttering  a  low  squealing  note  of  satisfaction. 

"  Why,  Victor,  is  this  you  ?  I  've  been  looking  for  you  all 
day." 

The  dog,  as  if  he  fully  understood  the  remark,  Wagged  his 
tail  w^th  increased  vigor,  and  then  checked  himself  in  a  bark 
which  tapered  off  into  a  confidential  wliine,  as  if  he  were  afraid 
of  being  heard  by  some  detective. 

Victor  was  a  cross  between  a  Scotch  terrier  and  a  thorough- 
bread  Cuba  bloodhound,  imported  for  hunting  runaway  slaves. 
He  combined  the  good  traits  of  both  breeds.  He  had  the  accu- 
rate scent,  the  large  size  and  black  color  of  the  hound,  the  wiry 
hair,  the  tenacity,  and  the  affectionate  nature  of  the  terrier. 
In  the  delicate  action  of  liis  expressive  nose,  you  saw  keenness 
of  scent  in  its  most  subtle  inquisitions. 

Late  as  was  the  hour.  Peek  (who,  in  the  event  of  being 
stopped,  had  the  mayor's  pass  for  his  protection)  determined 
on  an  instant  trial  of  the  dog's  powers,  for  the  exercise  of 
which  perhaps  the  night  would  in  this  instance  be  the  most 
favorable  time.  He  took  him  to  Semmes's  ofl&ce,  and  making 
him  scent  the  lawyer's  glove,  indicated  a  wish  to  have  him  find 
out  his  trail.  Victor  either  would  not  or  could  not  undei-stand 
what  was  w^anted.  He  threw  up  his  nose  as  if  in  contempt, 
and  turned  away  from  the  glove  as  if  he  desii-ed  to  have  noth- 
inf^  to  do  with  it.  Then  he  would  run  away  a  short  distance, 
and  come  back,  and  rise  with  his  fore  feet  on  Peek's  breast. 
He  repeated  this  several  times,  and  at  last  Peek  said  :  "  Well, 
have  your  own  way.     Go  ahead,  old  fellow." 

Victor  thanked  him  in  another  low  whine,  uttered  as  if  ad- 


SEEING  IS  BELIEVING,  391 

dressed  exclusively  to  his  private  ears,  and  then  trotted  off, 
assui*ed  that  Peek  was  following.  In  half  an  hour's  time,  he 
stopped  before  a  square  whitewashed  building  with  iron-grated 
windows. 

"  Confound  you,  Victor  !  "  muttered  Peek.  "  You  Ve  told 
me  nothing  new,  bringing  me  here.  I  was  already  aware  your 
master  was  in  jail.  I  can  do  nothing  for  him.  Can't  you  do 
better  than  that  ?     Come  along  !  " 

Returning  to  Semmes's .  office.  Peek  tried  once  more  to  in- 
terest the  dog  in  the  glove  ;  but- Victoi^  tossed  his  nose  away  as 
if  in  a  pet.     He  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  it. 

"  Come  along,  then,  you  rascal,"  said  Peek.  "  We  can  do 
nothing  further  to-night.      Come  and  share  my  room  with  me." 

He  reached  home  as  the  clock  struck  one.  Victor  followed 
him  into  the  house,  and  eagerly  disposed  of  a  supper  of  bones 
and  milk.  Peek  then  went  up  to  bed  and  threw  down  a  mat 
by  the  open  window,  upon  which  the  dog  stretched  himself  as 
if  he  were  quite  as  tired  as  his  human  companion. 


oJ2  PECULIAK. 

CHAPTER    XL. 

THE  REMARKABLE  MAN  AT  RICHMOND. 

"  Let  me  have  men  about  me  that  are  fat ; 
aeek-headed  men,  and  such  as  sleep  o'  nights  : 
Yond'  Cassius  has  a  lean  and  hungry  look." 

*  Shakespeare. 

YES,  Ratcliff  had  escaped.  His  temper  had  not  been 
s-^eetened  by  his  forced  visit  to  the  North.  In  Fort 
Lafayette  he  had  for  a  while  given  way  to  the  sulks.  Then 
he  changed  his  tactics.  Finding  that  Surgeon  Mooney,  though 
a  Northern  man,  had  conservative  notions  on  the  subject  of  the 
"  nigger,"  he  addressed  himself  to  the  work  of  befooling  that 
functionary.  Inasmuch  as  Nature  had  already  half  done  it  to 
his  hands,  he  did  not  find  the  task  a  difficult  one. 

In  his  imprisonment  Ratcliff  had  ample  time  for  indulging  in 
day-dreams.  He  grew  almost  maudlin  over  that  photograph 
of  Clara.  Yes  !  By  his  splendid  generosity  he  would  bind  to 
him  forever  that  beautiful  young  girl. 

He  must  transmit  his  proud  name  to  legitimate  children. 
He  must  be  the  founder  of  a  noble  house ;  for  the  Confed- 
eracy, when  triumphant,  would  undoubtedly  have  its  orders  of 
nobility.  A  few  years  in  Europe  with  such  a  wife  would  suit 
him  admirably.  Slidell  and  Mason,  having  been  released  from 
Fort  Warren  in  Boston  harbor,  would  be  proud  to  take  him 
by  the  hand  and  introduce  him  and  his  to  the  best  society. 

These  visions  came  to  soften  his  chagrin  and  mitigate  the 
tediousriess  of  impi-isonment.  But  he  now  grew  impatient  for 
the  fulfilment  of  his  schemes.  Delay  had  its  dangers.  True, 
he  confided  much  in  the  vigilance  of  Semmes,  but  Semmes 
was  an  old  man,  and  might  drop  off  any  day.  A  beautiful 
white  slave  was  a  very  hazardous  piece  of  property. 

It  was  not  difficult  for  Ratcliff  to  persuade  Surgeon  Mooney 
that  his  health  required  greater  liberty  of  movement.  At  a 
time  when,  under  the  Davis  regime,  sick  and  wounded  United 


THE   REMARKABLE  MAN  AT   RICHMOND.  393 

States  soldiers,  imprisoned  at  Richmond  in  filthy  tobacco-ware- 
houses, were,  in  repeated  instances,  brutally  and  against  all 
civilized  usages  shot  dead  for  going  to  the  windows  to  inhale 
a  httle  fresh  air,  the  National  authorities  were  tender  to  a 
degree,  almost  ludicrous  in  contrast,  of  the  health  and  riglits 
of  Rebel  prisonere.  If  any  of  these  were  troubled  with  a 
bowel  complaint  or  a  touch  of  lumbago,  the  "  central  despotism 
at  Washington  "  was  denounced,  by  journals  hostile  to  the  war, 
as  responsible  for  the  afiiiction,  and  the  people  were  called  on 
to  rescue  violated  Freedom  from  the  clutches  of  an  insidious 
tyrant,  even  from  plain,  scnipulous  "  old  Abe,"  son  of  a  poor 
Kentuckian  who  could  show  no  pedigree,  like  Colonel  Delancy 
Hyde  and  Jefferson  Davis. 

A  pathetic  paragraph  appeared  in  one  of  the  newspapers, 
giving  a  piteous  story  of  a  "loyal  citizen  of  New  Orleans," 
who,  for  no  namable  offence,  was  made  to  pine  in  a  foul  dun- 
geon to  satisfy  the  personal  pique  of  ]Mi'.  Secretary  Stanton. 
Soon  afterwards  a  remonstrance  in  behalf  of  tliis  victim  of 
oppression  was  signed  by  Surgeon  Mooney.  Ratcliff,  whom 
the  pubHc  sympathy  had  been  led  to  picture  as  in  the  last 
stage  of  a  mortal  malady,  was  foli:h^vith  admitted  to  extraor- 
dinary privileges.  He  was  enabled  to  communicate  clandes- 
tinely with  friends  in  New  York.  He  soon  managed  to  get  on 
boai'd  a  Nova  Scotia  coasting  schooner.  A  week  afterwards, 
he  succeeded  in  running  the  blockade,  and  in  disembarking 
safely  at  Wilmington,  N.  C. 

Anxious  as  he  was  to  get  home,  he  must  first  go  to  Rich- 
mond to  pay  his  respects  to  "President"  Davis,  of  w^ion 
everybody  at  the  South  used  to  say  to  Mi\  W.  H.  Russell 
of  the  London  Times,  "  Don't  you  think  our  President  is  a 
remarkable  man  ?  "  Ratcliff  was  not  unknown  to  Da\as,  and 
sent  up  his  card.  It  drew  forth  an  immediate  "  Show  him  in." 
The  "  remarkable  man "  sat  in  his  library  at  a  small  table 
strewn  with  letters  and  manuscripts.  A  thin,  Cassius-like, 
care-burdened  figure,  slightly  above  the  middle  height.  What 
some  persons  called  digtiity  in  his  manner  was  in  truth  merely 
ungracious  stiffness ;  while  his  haiUeur  was  the  unquiet  arro- 
gance that  fears  it  shall  not  get  its  due.  His  face  was  not 
that  of  a  man  who  could  prudently  afford  to  sneer  (as  he  had 

16* 


394  PECULIAR. 

publicly  done)  at  Abraham  Lincoln's  homeliness.  But  before 
him  lay  lettere  on  which  tlie  postage-stamp  was  an  absurdly 
flattered  likeness  of  himself,  —  as  like  him  as  tlie  starved 
apothecary  is  like  Jupiter  Tonans. 

In  the  original  the  cheeks  were  shrunken  and  sallow,  leav- 
ing the  bones  high  and  salient.  The  jaws  were  thin  and 
hollow  ;  the  forehead  wruikled  and  out  of  all  proportion  with 
the  lower  part  of  the  face  ;  the  eyes  deep-set,  and  one  of  them 
dulled  by  a  severe  neuralgic  affection.  The  lips  were  too  tliin, 
and  there  was  no  sweetness  in  the  mouth.  The  whole  expres- 
sion was  that  of  one  whose  besetting  characteristic  is  an  intense 
self-consciousness. 

This  man  could  not  be  betrayed  into  the  ease  and  abandon 
of  one  of  nature's  noblemen,  for  he  was  never  thinking  so 
much  of  others  as  of  liimself.  The  absence  in  him  of  all  geni- 
ality of  manner  was  not  the  resei-ve  of  a  gentleman,  but  the 
frigidity  of  an  unsympathetic  and  unassured  heart.  There  was 
little  in  him  of  the  Southern  type  of  manhood.  It  is  not  to  be 
wondered  that  bluff  General  Taylor  could  not  overcome  his 
repugnance  to  him  as  a  son-in-law. 

Although  at  the  head  of  the  Rebellion,  this  man  had  no  vital 
faith  in  it ;  no  enthusiasm  that  could  magnetize  others  by  a 
noble  contagion.  He  was  not  a  fanatic,  like  Stonewall  Jackson. 
And  yet,  just  previously  to  Ratcliff 's  call,  he  had  been  exercised 
in  mind  about  joining  the  chui'ch,  —  a  step  he  finally  took. 

He  had  few  of  the  qualities  of  a  statesman.  His  petty  ma- 
lignities overcame  all  sense  of  th\5  proprieties  becoming  his 
station ;  for  he  would  give  way.  even  in  his  public  official  ad- 
dresses, to  scuiTihties  which  had  the  meanness  without  the 
viiility  of  the  slang  of  George  Sandei*son,  and  which  showed  a 
lack  of  the  primary  elements  of  a  heroic  nature. 

A  man  greatly  oveiTated  as  to  abilities.  A  repudiator  of 
the  sacred  obligations  assumed  by  his  State,  it  was  his  added 
infelicity  to  be  defended  by  John  Slidell.  Never  respected 
for  truthfulness  by  those  who  knew  him  best.  Future  histo- 
rians will  contrast  him  vdth  President  Lincoln,  and  will  show- 
that,  while  the  latter  surpassed  him  immeaisurably  in  high 
moral  attributes,  he  was  also  his  superior  in  intellectual  pith. 

The  interview  between  Ratclifi'  and  Davis  besan  with  an 


THE   KEMAUKABLE   MAN   AT   KICILMOND.  395 

interchange  of  views  on  the  subject  of  New  Orleans.  Each 
cheered  the  other  with  assurances  of  the  impracticability  of  the 
Federal  attack.  After  public  affairs  had  been  discussed,  the 
so-called  President  said :  "  Excuse  me  for  not  having  asked 
after  Mrs.  RatcUfF.     Is  she  well  ? " 

"  She  died  some  time  sii^ce,"  replied  Ratcliff. 

"  Indeed !  In  these  times  of  general  bereavement  we  find 
it  impossible  to  keep  account  of  our  friends.'* 

"  It  is  my  purpose,  Mr.  President,  to  marry  soon  again. 
You  have  youi'self  set  the  example  of  second  nuptials,  and  I 
believe  the  experiment  has  been  a  happy  one." 

"  Yes  ;  may  yours  be  as  fortunate  !     Wlio  is  the  lady  ?  " 

"  A  young  person  not  known  in  society,  but  highly  respecta- 
ble and  well  educated.  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  to  present 
her  to  you  here  in  Richmond  in  the  course  of  the  summer." 

"Mi-s.  Davis  will  be  charmed  to  make  her  acquaintance- 
Come  and  help  us  celebrate  Lee's  next  great  victory^." 

"  Thank  you.  If  I  can  get  my  affairs  into  position,  I  may 
wish  to  pass  the  next  year  in  Europe  with  my  new  wife.  It 
would  not  be  difficult,  I  suppose,  for  you  to  give  me  some  diplo- 
matic stamp  that  would  make  me  pass  current." 

"  The  government  will  be  disposed,  no  doubt,  to  meet  your 
views.  We  are  likely  to  want  some  accredited  agent  in  Spain. 
A  post  that  would  enable  you  to  fluctuate  between  Madrid  and 
Paris  would  be  not  an  unpleasant  one." 

"  It  would  suit  me  entirely,  Mr.  President." 

"  You  may  rely  on  my  friendly  consideration." 

"  Thank  you.     How  about  foreign  recognition  ?  " 

"  Slidell  writes  favorably  as  to  the  Emperor's  predispositions 
In  England,  the  aristocracy  and  gentry,  with  most  of  the  trad- 
ing classes,  undoubtedly  favor  our  cause.  They  desire  to  see  the 
Union  permanently  broken  up,  and  wall  help  us  all  they  can. 
But  they  must  do  this  indirectly,  seeing  that  the  mass  of  the 
English  people,  the  rabble  rout,  even  the  artisans,  thi-own  out 
of  employment  by  this  war,  sympathize  with  the  plebeians  of 
the  North  rather  than  with  us,  the  true  master  race  of  this 
continent,  the  patricians  of  the  South." 

"  I  'm  glad  to  see,  IVIr.  President,  you  characterize  the  North- 
ern scum  as  they  deserve,  —  descendants  of  the  refuse  sent 
over  by  Cromwell." 


396  rECLLIAK. 

"  Yes,  Mr.  RHtclifT,  you  and  I  who  ai-e  gentlemen  by  biiili 
and  education,  —  and  whose  ancestoi*^,  further  back  than  the 
Norman  CJonquest,  were  all  gentlemen  * —  can  poorly  disguise 
our  disgust  at  any  association  vnth  Yankees." 

"  Gladstone  says  you  've  created  a  nation,  Mr.  President." 

"  Yes  ;  Gladstone  is  a  high-toned  gentleman.  His  ancestors 
made  their  fortunes  in  the  Liverpool  slave-trade." 

"  Have  you  any  assurances  yet  from  Mason  ?  " 

"Nothing  decisive.  But  the  eagerness  of  the  Ministry  to 
humble  the  North  in  the  Trent  affair  shows  the  real  animus 
of  the  niling  classes  in  England.  Lord  John  disappoints  me 
occasionally.     Bad  blood  there.     But  the  rest  are  all  right." 

"  A  pity  they  could  n't  put  their  peasantry  into  the  condition 
of  our  slaves !  " 

"  A  thousand  pities  !  But  the  new  Confederacy  must  be  a 
ISIissionary  to  the  Nations,!  to  teach  the  ruling  classes  through- 
out the  world,  that  slavery  is  the  normal  status  for  the  mechanic 
and  the  laborer.  Meanwliile  the  friends  of  monarchy  in  Eu- 
rope must  foresee  that  such  a  triumph  as  republicanism  would 
have  in  the  restoration  of  the  old  Union,  with  slaver}^  no  longer 
a  power  in  the  land,  and  with  an  army  and  navy  the  fii-st  in  the 
world,  would  be  an  appalling  spectacle." 

"  What  do  you  hear  from  Washington,  Mr.  President  ?  " 

"  The  last  I  heard  of  the  gorilla,  he  was  investigating  the 
so-called  spiritual  phenomena.  The  letter-writers  tell  of  a 
medium  having  been  entertained  at  the  White  House." 

Here  Mr.  Memminger  came  in  to  talk  over  the  state  of  the 
Rebel  exchequer,  —  a  subject  which  Mr.  Davis  generally  dis- 
posed of  by  ignoring ;  his  old  experience  in  repudiation  teach- 
ing him  that  the  best  mode  of  fancy  financiering  was,  —  if  we 
may  descend  to  the  vernacular,  —  to  '•  go  it  bHnd." 

'.'  I  'II  intrude  no  longer  on  youi'  precious  time,"  said  Ratcliff. 
"  I  go  home  to  send  you  word  that  the  renegade  Tennessean, 
Farragut,  and  that  peddling  lawyer  from  Lowell,  Picayune 
Butler,  have  been  spued  out  of  the  mouths  of  the  Mississippi." 
The  "  President "  rose,  pressed  Ratcliff 's  proffered  hand,  and, 
with  a  stiff,  angular  bow,  parted  from  him  at  the  door. 

*  Mr.  Davis's  father  was  a  "  cavalier."     He  dealt  in  horses. 
t  "  Reverently,  we  feel  that  our  Confederacy  is  a  God-sent  missionary  to 
the  nations,  with  great  truths  to  preach."  —Richmond  Enquirer. 


HOPES  AND  FEARS.  397 


CHAPTER    XLI. 

HOPES  AND  FEARS. 

"  In  the  same  brook  none  ever  bathed  him  twice : 
To  the  same  life  none  ever  twice  awoke." 

Young. 

THREE  days  after  his  interview  with  the  "remarkable 
man,"  Ratcliff  was  at  Montgomery,  Ala.  There  he  tele- 
graphed to  Semmes,  and  received  these  words  in  reply  :  "  All 
safe.  On  your  arrival,  go  first  to  my  office  for  directions." 
Ratcliff  obeyed,  and  found  a  letter  telling  him  not  to  go  home, 
but  to  meet  Semmes  immediately  at  the  house  to  which  the 
latter  had  transferred  the  white  slave.  Half  an  hour  did  not 
elapse  before  lawyer  and  client  sat  in  the  curtained  drawing- 
room  of  this  house,  discussing  their  affiiirs. 

"  I  cannot  believe,"  said  Ratcliff,  "  that  Josephine  intended 
to  have  the  girl  escape.  She  was  the  fii'st  to  plan  this  mar- 
riage." 

"  I  did  not  act  on  light  grounds  of  suspicion,"  replied 
Semmes.  "  I  had  myself  overheard  remarks  which  convinced 
me  that  Madame  was  playing  a  double  game.  Either  she  or 
some  one  else  has  put  it  into  the  gM's  head  that  she  is  not  law- 
fully a  slave,  but  the  kidnapped  child  of  respectable  parents." 

As  he  spoke  these  words  Semmes  looked  narrowly  at  Rat- 
cliff, who  blenched  as  if  at  an  unexpected  thrust.  Following 
up  his  advantage,  Semmes  continued :  "  And,  by  the  way,  there 
is  one  awkward  circumstance  which,  if  known,  might  make 
trouble.  I  see  by  examining  the  notaiy's  books,  that,  in  the 
record  of  your  proprietorship,  you  speak  of  the  child  as  a 
quadroon.  Now  plainly  she  has  no  sign  of  African  blood  in 
her  veins." 

Ratcliff  gnawed  his  lips  a  moment,  and  then  remarked : 
"  The  fact  that  the  record  speaks  of  the  child  as  a  quadroon 
does  not  amount  to  much.  She  may  have  been  born  of  a 
quadroon  mother,  and  may  have  been  tanned  while  an  infant 


398  PECULIAR. 

so  as  to  appear  hei-self  like  a  quadroon  ;  and  subsequently  her 
skin  may  have  turned  fair.  All  tliat  will  be  of  little  account. 
Half  of  the  white  slaves  in  the  city  would  not  be  suspected  of 
ha^-ing  African  blood  in  their  veins,  but  for  the  record.  Wlio 
would  tliink  of  disputing  my  claim  to  a  slave,  —  one,  too,  that 
had  been  lield  by  me  for  some  fifteen  years  ?  " 

Well  might  Ratcliff  ask  the  question.  It  is  true  that  the 
laws  of  Louisiana  had  some  ameliorated  features  that  seemed 
to  throw  a  sort  of  protection  round  the  slave ;  and  one  of  these 
was  the  law  preventing  the  separation  of  young  children  from 
their  mothers  imder  the  hammer ;  and  making  ownership  in 
slaves  transferable,  not  by  a  mere  bill  of  sale,  like  a  bale  of 
goods,  but  by  deed  formally  recorded  by  a  notaiy.  But  it  is 
none  the  less  true  that  such  are  the  necessities  of  slavery  that 
the  law  was  often  a  dead  letter.  There  was  always  large  room 
for  evasion  and  injustice  ;  and  the  man  who  should  look  too 
cuiiously  into  transactions,  involving  simply  the  rights  of  the 
slave,  would  be  pretty  sure  to  have  his  usefulness  cut  short  by 
being  denounced  as  an  Abolitionist. 

The  ignominious  expulsion  of  IVIr.  Hoar  who  went  to  South 
Cai'olina,  not  to  look  after  the  rights  of  slaves,  but  of  colored 
freemen,  was  a  standing  warning  against  any  philanthropy  that 
had  in  view  the  enforcement  or  testing  of  laws  friendly  to  the 
blacks. 

"  I  should  not  be  surprised,"  remarked  Semmes,  "  if  this 
young  woman  either  has,  or  believes  she  has,  some  proofs 
invahdating  your  claim  to  hold  her  as  a  chattel." 

'•  Bah  !  I  've  no  feai-  of  that.  "Who,  in  the  name  of  all  the 
fciiries,  does  the  little  woman  imagine  she  is  ?  " 

'*  She  cherishes  the  notion  that  she  is  the  daughter  of  that 
same  Henry  Berwick  who  was  lost  in  the  Pontiac.  Should 
that  be  so,  the  house  you  live  in  is  hers.  That  would  be  odd, 
w^ould  n't  it  ?  You  seem  surprised.  Is  there  any  probability 
in  the  tale  ?  " 

''  Xone  whatever  I  "  exclaimed  Ratcliff,  affecting  to  laugh, 
but  evidently  preoccupied  in  mind,  and  intent  on  following  out 
some  vague  reminiscence. 

He  remembered  that  the  infant  he  had  bought  as  a  slave 
and  taken  into  his  bai'ouche  wore  a  chemise  on  which  were 


HOPES  AND  FEARS.  '  399 

initial  letters  marked  in  silk.  He  was  struck  at  the  time  by 
the  fineness  of  the  work  and  of  the  fabric.  He  now  tried  to 
recall  those  initial  letters.  By  their  mnemonic  association  with 
a  certain  word,  he  had  fixed  them  in  his  mind.  He  strove  to 
recall  that  word.  Suddenly  he  started  up.  The  word  had 
come  back  to  him.  It  was  cah.  The  initials  were  C.  A.  B. 
Semmes  detected  his  emotion,  and  di'ew  his  own  inferences 
accordingly. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  he,  "  having  a  little  leisure  last  night,  I 
looked  back  through  an  old  file  of  the  Bee  newsj^aper,  and 
there  hit  upon  a  letter  from  the  pen  of  a  passenger,  written  a 
few  days  after  the  explosion  of  the  Pontiac." 

"  Indeed !  One  would  think,  judging  from  the  trouble  you 
take  about  it,  you  attached  some  degree  of  credence  to  this  fan- 
ciful story." 

"No.  'Tis  quite  incredible.  But  a  lawyer,  you  know, 
ought  to  be  prepared  on  all  points,  however  trivial,  affecting  his 
client's  interests." 

"  Did  you  find  anything  to  repay  you  for  your  search  ?  " 

"  I  will  read  you  a  passage  from  the  letter  ;  which  letter,  by 
the  way,  bears  the  initials  A.  L.,  undoubtedly,  as  I  infer  from 
the  context,  those  of  Arthur  Laborie,  whose  authority  no  one 
in  New  Orleans  will  question.  Here  is  the  passage.  The  let- 
ter is  in  French.     I  will  translate  as  I  read :  — 

" '  Among  the  mortally  wounded  was  a  Mr.  Berwick  of 
New  York,  a  gentleman  of  large  wealth.  They  had  pointed 
him  out  to  me  the  day  before,  as,  with  a  wife  and  infant  child, 
the  latter  in  the  arms  of  a  nui'se,  a  colored  woman,  he  stood  on 
the  hurricane-deck.  The  wife  was  killed,  probably  by  the  in- 
halation of  steam.  I  saw  and  identified  the  body.  The  child, 
they  said,  was  drowned ;  if  so,  the  body  was  not  recovered.  A 
colored  boy  reported,  that  the  day  after  the  accident  he  had  seen 
a  white  child  and  a  mulatto  woman,  probably  from  the  wreck,  in 
the  care  of  two  white  men ;  that  the  men  told  him  the  woman 
was  crazy,  and  that  the  child  belonged  to  a  friend  of  theirs 
who  had  been  drowned.  I  give  this  report,-in  the  hope  it  may 
reach  the  eyes  of  some  friend  of  the  Berwicks,  though  it  did 
not  seem  to  make  much  impression  on  the  officials  who  con- 
ducted the  investigation.  Probably  they  had  good  reason  for 
dismissing  the  testimony ;  for  Mr.  Berwick  died  in  the  full  be- 
lief that  his  wife  and  child  had  already  passed  away.'  " 


400  PECULIAR. 

"  I  don't  see  anything  in  all  that,"  said  Ratcliff,  impatiently. 

"  Perhaps  not/'  replied  Serames  ;  "  but  an  interested  lawyer 
would  see  a  good  deal  to  set  him  thinking  and  inquiring.  The 
letter,  having  been  published  in  French,  may  not  have  met  the 
eyes  of  any  one  to  whom  the  information  would  have  been 
suggestive." 

"  Really,  Semmes,  you  seem  to  be  trying  to  make  out  a 
case." 

"  The  force  of  habit.  'Tis  second  nature  for  a  lawyer  to  re- 
volve such  questions.  Many  big  cases  are  built  on  narrower 
foundations." 

"  Psha !  The  incident  might  do  very  well  iii  a  romance, 
but  'tis  not  one  of  a  kind  known  to  actual  life." 

"  Pardon  me.  Incidents  resembling  it  are  not  infrequent. 
There  was  the  famous  Burrows  case,  where  a  child  stolen  by 
Indians  was  recovered  and  identified  in  time  to  prevent  the 
diversion  of  a  large  property.  There  was  the  case  of  Aubert, 
where  a  quadroon  concubine  managed  to  substitute  her  own 
child  in  the  place  of  the  legitimate  heir.  Indeed,  I  could  men- 
tion quite  a  number  of  cases,  not  at  all  dissimilar,  and  some  of 
them  having  much  more  of  the  quality  of  romance." 

''  Damn  it,  Semmes,  what  are  you  di-iving  at  ?  Do  you  want 
to  take  a  chance  in  that  lottery  ?  " 

"  Have  I  ever  deseiled  a  client  ?  We  must  not  shrink  — 
we  lawyers  ■ —  from  looking  a  case  square  in  the  face." 

"  Nonsense  !  The  art  how  not  to  see  is  that  which  the  pru- 
dent lawyer  is  most  solicitous  to  leai-n.  It  is  not  by  looking  a 
case  square  in  the  face,  but  by  looking  only  at  his  side  of  it, 
that  he  wins." 

"  On  the  contrary,  the  man  of  nerve  looks  boldly  at  the  dan- 
ger, and  fends  off  accordingly.  Should  you  marry  this  young 
lady,  it  may  be  a  very  pleasant  thing  to  know  that  she 's  the 
true  heir  to  a  million." 

'•  Curse  me,  but  I  did  n't  think  of  that ! "  cried  Ratcliff,  rub- 
bing his  hands,  and  then  patting  the  lawyer  on  the  shoulder. 
"  Go  on  with  your  investigations,  Semmes  !  Hunt  up  more  in- 
formation about  the  Pontiac.  Go  and  see  Laborie.  Question 
Ripper,  the  auctioneer.  I  left  him  in  Montgomery,  but  he  will 
be  at  the  St.  Charles  to-mon-ow.     Find  out  who  Quattles  was ; 


HOPES  AND  FEARS.  401 

and  who  the  Colonel  was  who  acted  as  Quattles's  friend,  but 
whose  name  I  forget.  *T  is  barely  possible  there  may  have 
been  some  little  irregularities  practised;  and  if  so,  so  much 
the  better  for  me !  What  fat  pickings  for  you,  Semnies,  if  we 
could  make  it  out  that  this  little  girl  is  the  rightful  heir  !  All 
this  New  Orleans  property  can  be  saved  from  Confederate  con- 
fiscation. And  then,  as  soon  as  the  war  is  ended,  we  can  go 
and  establish  her  rights  in  New  York." 

Semraes  took  a  pinch  of  snuiF,  and  replied :  "  You  remember 
Mrs.  Glass's  well-worn  receipt  for  cooking  a  hare :  '  Fu'st, 
catch  your  hare.'  So  I  say,  first  make  sure  that  the  young  girl 
will  say  yes  to  your  proposition." 

"  What !  do  you  entertain  a  doubt  ?  A  slave  ?  One  I  could 
send  to  the  auction-block  to-morrow?  Do  you  imagine  she 
will  decline  an  alliance  with  Carberry  Ratcliff?  Look  you, 
Semmes !  I've  set  my  heart  on  this  marriage  more  than  I 
ever  did  on  any  other  scheme  in  my  whole  life.  The  chance  — 
for  't  is  only  a  remote  chance  —  that  she  is  of  gentle  blood,  — 
well-born,  the  rightful  heir  to  a  million,  —  this  enhances  the 
prize,  and  gives  new  piquancy  to  an  acquisition  already  suffi- 
ciently tempting  to  my  eyes.  There  must  be  no  such  word  as 
fail  in  this  business,  Mr.  Lawyer.  You  must  help  me  to  bring 
it  to  a  prosperous  conclusion  instantly." 

"  No :  do  not  say  instantly.  Beware  being  precipitate. 
Remember  what  the  poet  says,  — '  A  woman's  No  is  but  a 
crooked  path  unto  a  woman's  Jes.'  Do  not  mind  a  first  rebuff. 
Do  not  play  the  master.  Be  distant  and  respectful.  Attempt 
no  liberties.  You  will  only  shock  and  exasperate.  By  a  gen- 
tle, insinuating  course,  you  may  win." 

"  May  win  ?  I  must  win,  Semmes  !  There  must  be  no  if 
about  it." 

"  I  want  to  see  you  win,  Ratcliff;  but  show  her  you  assume 
there  's  no  if  in  the  case,  and  you  repel  and  alienate  her." 

"  I  don't  know  that.  Most  women  like  a  man  the  better  for 
being  truly,  as  well  as  nominally,  the  lord  and  master.  The 
more  imperious  he  is,  the  more  readily  and  tenaciously  they 
cling  to  him.  I  don't  believe  in  letting  a  woman  suppose  that 
she  can  seize  the  reins  when  she  pleases." 

The  lawyer  shi'ugged   his  shoulders,  then   replied:   "The 


402  PECULIAR. 

tyrant  is  hated  by  every  person  of  sense,  whether  man  or  wo- 
man. I  grant  you  there  are  many  women  wlio  have  n't  much 
sense.  But  this  little  lady  of  yours  is  the  last  in  the  world  on 
whom  you  can  safely  try  the  experiment  of  compulsion.  Take 
my  word  for  it,  the  true  course  is  to  let  her  suppose  she  is  free 
to  act.     You  must  rule  her  by  not  seeming  to  rule." 

"  Well,  let  me  see  the  girl,  and  I  can  judge  better  then  as 
to  the  fit  policy.  I  've  encountered  women  before  in  my  day. 
You  don't  speak  to  a  novice  in  woman-taming.  I  never  met 
but  one  yet  who  ventured  to  hold  out  against  me,  —  and  she 
got  the  worst  of  it,  I  reckon."  And  a  grim  smile  passed  over 
Ratcliff's  face  as  he  thought  of  Estelle. 

"  You  will  find  the  young  lady  in  the  room  corresponding 
with  this,  on  the  tliird  stoiy,"  said  the  lawyer.  "  The  door  is 
locked,  but  the  key  is  on  the  outside.  Please  consider  that  my 
supervision  ends  here.  I  leave  the  servants  in  the  house  sub- 
ject to  your  command.  The  Sister  Agatha  in  immediate 
attendance  is  a  pious  fool,  who  believes  her  charge  is  insane. 
She  ^vill  obey  you  implicitly.  Sam  will  attend  to  the  market- 
ing. My  own  affairs  now  claim  my  attention,  I  've  suffered 
largely  from  their  neglect  during  your  absence.  Be  careful 
not  to  be  seen  coming  in  or  going  out  of  this  house.  I  have 
used  extreme  precautions,  and  have  thus  far  baffled  those  who 
would  help  the  young  woman  to  escape." 

"I  shall  not  be  less  vigilant,"  replied  Ratcliff.  "I  accept 
the  keys  and  the  responsibility.  Good  by.  I  go  to  let  the 
young  woman  know  that  her  master  has  returned." 

Ratcliff  seized  his  hat  and  passed  out  of  the  room  up-staii*3 
as  fast  as  his  somewhat  pui'sy  habit  of  body  would  allow. 

"  There  goes  a  man  who  puts  his  hat  on  the  head  of  a  fool," 
muttered  the  old  lawyer.  "  Confound  him !  If  be  were  n't  so 
deep  in  my  books,  I  would  leave  him  to  his  own  destruction, 
and  join  the  enemy.  I  'm  not  sure  this  would  n't  be  the  best 
policy  as  it  is." 

Thus  venting  his  anger  in  soliloquy  Mr.  Senmies  quitted  the 
house,  and  walked  in  meditative  mood  to  his  office. 


Ratcliff  paused  at  the  uppermost  staii'  on  the  third  story. 
From  the  room  came  the  sound  of  a  piano-forte,  with  a  vocal 


HOPES   AND   FEARS.  403 

accompaniment.  Clara  was  singing  "  While  Thee  I  seek,  pro- 
tecting Power,"  —  a  hymn  which,  though  written  by  Helen 
Maria  Williams  when  she  thought  herself  a  deist,  is  used  by 
tliousands  of  Christian  congregations  to  interpret  their  highest 
mood  of  devout  trust  and  pious  resignation.  As  the  clear, 
out-swelling  notes  fell  on  Ratcliff's  ears,  he  drew  back  as  if  a 
flaming  sword  had  been  waved  menacingly  before  his  face. 

He  walked  down  into  the  room  below  and  waited  till  the 
music  was  over;  then  he  boldly  proceeded  up-stairs  again, 
knocked  at  the  door,  unlocked  it,  and  entered.  Clara  looked 
round  from  turning  the  leaves  of  a  music-book,  rose,  and  bent 
upon  her  visitor  a  penetrating  glance  as  if  she  would  fathom 
the  full  depth  of  his  intents.  Ratcliff  advanced  and  put  out 
his  hand.  She  did  not  take  it,  but  courtesied  and  motioned 
him  to  a  seat. 

She  was  dressed  in  a  flowing  gauze-like  robe  of  azure  over 
white,  appropriate  to  the  warmth  of  the  season.  Her  hair  was 
combed  back  from  her  forehead  and  temples,  showing  the  full 
symmetry  of  her  head.  Her  lips,  of  a  delicate  coral,  parted 
just  enough  to  show  the  white  perfection  of  her  teeth.  Rarely 
had  she  looked  so  dangerously  beautiful.  Ratcliflf  was  swift  to 
notice  all  these  points. 

Assuming  that  a  compliment  on  her  personal  appearance 
could  never  come  amiss  to  a  woman,  young  or  old,  he  said : 
"  Upon  my  word,  you  are  growing  more  beautiful  every  day, 
Miss  Murray.  I  had  thought  there  was  no  room  for  improve- 
ment.    I  find  my  mistake." 

Ratcliif  looked  narrowly  to  see  if  there  were  any  expression 
of  pleasure  on  her  face,  but  it  did  not  relax  from  its  impene- 
trabiHty. 

"  Will  you  not  be  seated  ?  "  he  asked. 

She  sat  down,  and  he  followed  her  example.  There  was 
silence  for  a  moment.  The  master  felt  almost  embarrassed 
before  the  young  girl  .he  had  so  long  regarded  as  a  slave. 
Something  like  a  genuine  emotion  began  to  stir  in  his  heart  as 
he  said :  "  JVIiss  Mun-ay,  you  are  well  aware  that  I  am  the 
only  person  to  whom  you  are  entitled  to  look  tor  protection  and 
support.  From  an  infant  you  have  been  under  my  charge,  and 
I  hope  you  will  admit  that  I  have  not  been  ungenerous  in  pro- 
viding for  you." 


404  PECULIAR. 

"One  word,  sir,  at  the  outset,  on  that  point,"  intei-posed 
Clara.  "  All  the  expense  you  have  been  at  for  me  shall  be 
repaid  and  overpaid  at  once  with  interest.  You  are  aware  I 
have  the  means  to  reimburse  you  fully." 

"Excuse  me,  Miss  Murray;  without  meaning  to  taunt  you, 
—  simply  to  set  you  riglit  in  your  notions,  —  let  me  remark, 
that,  being  my  slave,  you  can  hold  no  property  independent  of 
me.     All  you  have  is  legally  mine." 

"  How  can  that  be,  sir,  when  what  I  have  is  entirely  out  of 
your  power ;  safely  deposited  in  the  vaults  of  Northern  banks, 
where  your  claim  not  only  is  not  recognized,  but  where  you 
could  not  go  to  enforce  it  without  being  liable  to  be  arrested  as 
a  traitor  ?  " 

A  dark,  savage  expression  flitted  over  Ratclifrs  face  as  he 
thought  of  the  turn  which  his  wife,  aided  by  Winslow,  had 
served  him ;  but  he  checked  the  ire  which  was  rising  to  his 
lips,  and  replied :  "  Let  me  beg  you  not  to  cherish  an  unprofit^ 
able  delusion,  mv  dear  jNIiss  Murray.  When  this  war  termi- 
nates, as  it  inevitably  will,  in  the  triumph  of  the  South,  one  of 
the  conditions  of  peace  which  we  shall  impose  on  the  North 
will  be,  that  all  claims  resulting  out  of  slaveiy,  either  through 
the  abduction  of  slaves  or  the  transfer  of  property  held  as 
theirs,  shall  be  settled  by  the  fullest  indemnification  to  masters. 
In  that  event  your  little  property,  which  Mr.  TVinslow  thinks 
he  has  hid  safely  away  beyond  my  recovery,  will  be  surely 
reached  and  returned  to   me,  the  lawful  owner." 

"  Well,  sir,"  replied  Clara,  forcing  a  calmness  at  which  she 
hei-self  was  surprised,  "  supposing,  what  I  do  not  regard  as 
probable,  that  the  South  will  have  its  own  way  in  this  war, 
and  that  my  title  to  all  property  will  be  set  aside  as  super- 
seded by  youi-s,  let  me  inform  you  that  I  have  a  friend  who 
^vill  come  to  my  aid,  and  make  you  the  fullest  compensation 
for  all  the  expense  you  have  been  at  on  my  account." 

"  Lideed !  Is  there  any  objection  to  my  kno^Wng  to  what 
friend  you  allude  ?  " 

"  None  at  all,  sir.     Madame  Yolney  is  that  friend." 

"  Well,  we  will  not  discuss  that  point  now,"  said  RatclijQP, 
smiling  incredulously  as  he  thought  how  speedily  a  few  bland- 
ishments from  liim  would  overcome  any  resolution  which  the 


HOPES   AND   FEARS.  405 

lady  referred  to  might  form.     "  Mj  plans  for  you,  Miss  Mur- 
ray, are  all  honorable,  and  such  as  neither  you  nor  the  world 
can  regard  i\&  other  than  generous.     Consider  what  I  might  do 
if  I  were  so  disposed  !     I  could  put  you  up  at  auction  to-mor- 
row and  sell  you  to  some  brute  of  a  fellow  wlio  would  degrade 
and  misuse  you.     Instead  of  that,  what  do  I  propose  ?     First 
let  me  speak  a  £ew  words  of  myself.     I  am,  it  is  true,  consid- 
erably your  senior,  but  not  old,  and  not  ill-looking,  if  I  may 
believe  my  glass.     My  property,  ah-eady  large,  wiU  be  enor- 
mous the  moment  the  wai-  is  over.     I  have  bought  within  the 
last  six  months,  at  prices  almost  nominal,  over  a  thousand 
slaves,  whose  value   will  be  increased   twenty-fold   with  the 
return  of  peace.     My  position  in  the  new  Confederacy  will  be 
among  the  foremost.     Already  President  Davis  has  assured 
me  that  whatever  I  may  ask  in  the  way  of  a  new  foreign  mis- 
sion I  can  have.     Thus  the  lady  who  may  link  her  fate  with 
mine  will  be  a  welcome  guest  at  all  the  courts  of  Europe.     If 
she  is  beautiful,  her  beauty  will  be  admired  by  princes,  kings, 
and  emperors.     If  she  is  intellectual,  all  the  wits  and  great 
men  of  London  and  Paris  will  be  ambitious  to  make  her  ac- 
quaintance.    Now  what  do  you  think  I  propose  for  you  ?  " 

^  "  Let  me  not  disguise  my  knowledge,"  repHed  Clara,  looking 
him  in  the  face  till  he  dropped  his  eyelids.  «  You  propose  that 
I  should  be  your  wife." 

"  Ah !     Josephine  has  told  you,  then,  has  she  ?     And  what 
did  you  say  to  it  ?  " 

"  I  said  I  could  never  say  i/es  to  such  a  proposition  from  a 
man  who  claimed  me  as  a  slave." 

•'But  what  if  I  forego  my  claim,  and  give  you  free  papers.?'* 
"  Try  it,"  said  Clara,  sternly. 
"  Can  you  then  give  me  any  encouragement  ? " 
^  The  idea  was  so  hideous  to  her,  and  so  strong  her  disinclina- 
tion to  deceive,  or  to  aUow  him  to  deceive  himself,  that  she 
could  not  restrain   the   outburst  of  a   hearty  and   emphatic 

Ratcliflrs  eyes  swam  a  moment  with  their  old  glitter  that 
meant  mischief;  but  the  recollection  of  his  lawyer's  warning 
restored  him  to  good  humor.  He  resolved  to  bear  with  her 
waywardness  at  tliat  first  interview,  and  to  let  her  say  no  as 
much  as  she  pleased. 


406  *  PECULIAR. 

"You  say  no  now,  but  by  and  by  you  will  say  yes,''  he 
replied. 

Clara  had  risen  and  was  pacing  the  floor.  Suddenly  she 
stopped  and  said :  "  My  desire  is  to  disabuse  you  wholly  of 
any  expectation,  even  the  most  remote,  that  I  can  ever  change 
my  mind  on  this  point.  Under  no  conceivable  circumstances 
could  I  depart  from  my  determination." 

"  Tell  me  one  thing,"  replied  Ratcliff.  "  Do  you  speak  thus 
because  your  affections  are  pi^-engaged  ?  " 

"  I  do  not,"  said  Clara ;  "  and  for  that  reason  I  can  mal^e 
my  refustil  all  the  more  final  and  irrevocable ;  for  it  is  not 
biased  by  passion.  I  beg  you  seriously  to  dismiss  all  expecta- 
tion of  ever  being  able  to  change  my  purpose  ;  and  I  propose 
you  should  receive  for  my  release  such  a  sum  as  may  be  a 
complete  compensation  for  what  you  have  expended  on  me." 

Ratcliff  had  it  in  his  heart  to  reply,  "  Slave  !  do  your  mas- 
ter's bidding " ;  but  he  discreetly  curbed  his  choler,  and  said, 
"  Can  you  give  me  any  good  reason  for  your  refusal  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Clara,  "  the  best  of  reasons  :  one  which  no 
gentleman  would  wish  to  contend  agamst :  my  inclinations  will 
not  let  me  accept  your  proposal." 

"  Inclinations  may  change,"  suggested  Ratchff. 

"  In  this  case  mine  can  only  grow  more  and  more  adverse," 
replied  Clara. 

Ratcliff'  found  it  difficult  to  restrain  himself  from  assuming 
the  tone  that  chimes  so  well  with  the  snap  of  the  plantation 
scourge  ;  and  so  he  resolved  to  withdi'aw  from  the  field  for  the 
present.  He  rose  and  said  :  "  As  we  grow  better  acquainted, 
my  dear,  I  am  persuaded  your  feelings  will  change.  I  have 
no  wish  to  force  your  affections.  That  would  be  imchivalrous 
towards  one  I  propose  to  place  in  the  relation  of  a  wife.'' 

He  laid  a  significant  emphasis  on  this  last  w^ord,  wife  ;  and 
Clara  started  as  at  some  hideous  object  in  her  path.  Was 
there,  then,  another  relation  in  which  he  might  seek  to  place 
her,  if  she  persisted  in  her  course  ?  And  then  she  recollected 
Estelle  ;  and  the  flush  of  an  angry  disgust  mounted  to  her 
brow.  But  she  made  no  reply  ;  and  Ratcliff,  with  his  hateful 
gaze  devouring  her  beauties  to  the  last,  passed  out  of  the  room. 

On  the  whole  he  felicitated  himself  on  the  intervicAv.     He 


HOPES  AND   FEARS.  407 

thought  he  had  kept  his  temper  remarkably  well,  and  had  not 
allowed  this  privileged  beauty  to  irritate  him  beyond  the  pru- 
dent point.  He  believed  she  could  not  resist  so  much  suavity 
-and  generosity  on  his  part.  She  had  confessed  she  was  heart- 
free  :  surely  that  was  in  his  favor.  It  was  rather  provoking 
to  have  a  slave  put  on  such  airs  ;  but  then,  by  Jove,  she  was 
worth  enduring  a  little  humiliation  for.  Possibly,  too,  it  miglit 
be  high  blood  that  told  in  her.  Possibly  she  might  be  that 
last  scion  of  the  Berwick  stock  which  an  untoward  fate  had 
swept  far  from  all  signs  of  parentage. 

These  considerations,  while  they  disposed  Ratcliff  to  leniency 
in  judging  of  her  waywardness,  did  but  aggravate  the  importu- 
nity of  his  desires  for  the  proposed  alliance.  Although  hitherto 
his  tastes  had  led  him  to  admire  the  coarser  types  of  feminine 
beauty,  there  was  that  in  the  very  difference  of  Clara  from  all 
other  women  with  whom  he  had  been  intimate,  which  gave 
novelty  and  freshness  and  an  absorbing  fascination  to  his  pres- 
ent pursuit.  The  possession  of  her  now  was  the  prime  neces- 
sity of  his  nature.  That  prize  hung  uppermost.  Even  Con- 
federate victories  were  secondary.  Politics  were  forgotten.  He 
did  not  ask  to  see  the  newspapers  ;  he  did  not  seek  to  go  abroad 
to  confer  with  his  political  associates,  and  tell  them  all  that  he 
had  seen  and  heard  at  Richmond.  Semmes's  caution  in  regard 
to  the  danger  of  his  being  tracked  had  something  to  do  with 
keeping  him  in  the  house ;  but  apart  from  this  motive,  the  mere 
wish  to  be  under  the  same  roof  with  Clara,  till  he  had  secured 
her  his  beyond  all  hazard,  would  have  been  sufficient  to  keep 
him  within  doors. 

Ratcliff  went  down  into  the  dining-room.  The  table  was 
set  for  one.  He  thought  it  time  to  inquire  into  the  arrange- 
ments of  the  household.  He  rang  the  bell,  and  it  was  answered 
by  a  slim,  delicate  looking  mulatto  man,  having  on  the  white 
apron  of  a  waiter. 

"  What 's  your  name,  and  whose  boy  are  you  ?  "  asked  Rat- 
cHff. 

"  My  name  is  Sam,  sir,  and  I  belong  to  lawyer  Semmes," 
replied  the  man,  smoothing  the  table-cloth,  and  removing  a 
pitcher  from  the  sideboard. 


408  PECULIAR. 

"  What  directions  did  he  leave  for  you  ?  " 

"  He  told  me  to  stay  and  wait  upon  you,  sir,  just  as  I  had 
upon  him,  till  you  saw  fit  to  dismiss  me." 

"  What  other  servants  are  there  in  the  house  ?  " 

"  One  colored  woman,  sir,  and  one,  a  negro ;  Manda'  the 
cook,  and  Agnes  the  chambermaid." 

"  Any  other  persons  ?  " 

"  Only  the  young  woman  that 's  crazy,  and  the  Sister  of 
Charity  that  attends  her.     They  are  on  the  third  floor." 

Eatcliff  looked  sharply  at  the  mulatto,  but  could  detect  in 
his  face  no  sign  that  he  mistrusted  the  stoiy  of  the  insane 
woman. 

"  Send  up  the  chambermaid,"  said  Ratcliff. 

'•  Yes,  sir.     When  will  you  have  your  dinner,  sir  ?  " 

"  In  half  an  hour.     Have  you  any  wines  in  the  house  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  Sherry,  Madeira,  Port,  Burgundy,  Hock,  Cham- 
pagne." 

"  Put  on  Port  and  Champagne." 

Sam's  departure  was  followed  by  the  chamber-maid's  appear- 
ance. 

"  Are  my  rooms  all  ready,  Agnes  ?  " 

"  Yes,  massa.  Front  room,  second  story,  all  ready.  Sheets 
fresh  and  aired.  Floor  swept  dis  momin'.  All  clean  an' 
sweet,  massa." 

There  was  something  in  the  forward  and  assured  air  of  this 
negro  woman  that  was  satisfactory  to  Ratcliff.  Some  little 
coquetries  of  dress  suggested  that  she  had  a  weakness  through 
which  she  might  be  won  to  be  his  unquestioning  ally  in  any  de- 
signs he  might  adopt.  He  threw  out  a  comphment  on  her  good 
looks,  and  this  time  he  found  his  compliment  was  not  thrown 
away.  He  gave  her  money,  telling  her  to  buy  a  new  dress 
with  it,  and  promised  her  a  silk  shawl  if  she  would  be  a  good 
girl.     To  all  of  wliich  she  replied  with  simpei^s  of  delight. 

"  Now,  Agnes,"  said  he,  "  tell  me  what  you  think  of  the 
little  crazy  lady  up-stairs  ?  " 

"  I  'se  of  'pinion,  sar,  dat  gal  am  no  more  crazy  nor  I  'm 
crazy." 

"  I  'm  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,  for  I  intend  to  make  her  my 
wife  ;  and  want  you  to  help  me  all  you  can  in  bi-inging  it  about." 


HOPES  AND  FEARS.  4O9 

"Shouldn't   tiiik   massa  would   need  no  help,  wid  all   h« 
money     Wheugh!     Wl^at 's  de  matter  ?    Am  sheTffishT" 

A  little  obstinate,  that's  aU.  But  she'U  come  round  in 
good  tune.  Only  you  stand  by  me  close,  Agnes,  and  you  shall 
have  a  hundred  dollars  the  day  I  'm  married!" 

chUe!  s'^P'  '*'"'  '  ^"^  °^""'  "*"'"      ^^"^  '"'^y  <=<"-'  °°  ^ 
"Now  go  and  send  up  dinner,"  said  Ratcliff,  confident  he 

had  secured  one  confederate  who  would  not  stick  at  trifles 
Ihe  dinner  was  brought  up  hot  and  carefully  served. 

not  to  t      '°"T  f%  "'"'"''  '='""'  ""•    "  The  wines,  too,  are 
ChaLVat::^^"'^'-    '  '''"''''  '"""^  ^"■■"""""^  ^^  ^^"^  *o  ^^« 

"A  bottle  of  Burgundy,  Sam." 

a.  J^FlT'il"''"  ^''"°^'  "^  ^  ^"''^^'  ^^^  ^^-^^  '^^  ^ork  gently 
and  slnlfully,  so  as  not  to  shake  the  precious  contents.  ^ 

Ah  I  this  will  do,"  said  Ratcliff;    "  it  must  be  of  the  famous 

vmtage  of  eighteen  hundred  and-  confound  the  date  !     sZ 

you  sly  nigger,  try  a  glass  of  this."  ' 

"  Thank  you,  sir,  I  never  di-ink." 

"  Nigger,  you  lie  !     Hand  me  that  goblet." 

Sam  did  as  he  was  bid.  Ratcliff  fiUed  the  glass  with  the 
dark  ruby  liquid,  and  said,  "Now  toss  it  off,  you  Leal  Don't 
pretend  you  don  t  Hke  it."  ^  * 

Sam  meekly  obeyed,  and  put  down  the  emptied  goblet.    Rat- 

thTn  t         :    '?'  ^  ""^°^  ^'^  ^^"^^^  ^  ^^-  --tes  longer, 
then  io.e,  and  made  Ins  way  unsteadily  to  the  sofa. 

«  ^am,  you  solemn  nigger,  what's  o'clock  ?  "  said  he. 
Ihe  clock  is  just  striking  ten,  sir." 

t.hl^p''t^'*       ^^"'  ^  ^''''  three-hiccup-hours  at   the 
taDle       t^am,  see  me  up-stairs  and  put  me  to  bed." 

Half  an  hour  afterwards  Ratcliff  lay  in  the  heavy,  stertorous 
slumber  which  wme,  more  than  fatigue,  had  engendered. 

He  was  habitually  a  late  sleeper.  It  wanted  but  a  few 
minutes  to  eleven  o'clock  the  next  morning  when  Sam  started 
to  answer  Ins  bell.     Ratcliff  called  for  soda-water.     Sam  had 


410  PECULIAR. 

taken  the  precaution  to  put  a  couple  of  bottles  imder  his  ann, 
foreseeing  that  it  would  be  needed. 

It  took  a  full  hour  for  Ratcliff  to  accomplish  the  duties  of  his 
toilet.  Then  he  went  down  to  breakfast.  And  still  the  one 
thought  that  pursued  him  was  how  best  to  extort  compliance 
from  that  beautiful  maiden  up-stairs. 

A  brilliant  idea  occurred  to  him.  He  Avould  go  and  exert 
his  powers  of  fascination.  Without  importunately  urging  his 
suit,  he  would  deal  out  his  treasure  of  small-talk :  he  would 
read  poetry  to  her ;  he  would  try  all  the  most  approved  means 
of  making  love. 

Again  he  knocked  at  her  door.  It  was  opened  by  Sister 
Agatha,  who  at  a  sign  from  him  withdrew  into  the  adjoining 
room.     Clara  was  busy  with  her  needle. 

"  Have  you  any  objection  to  playing  a  tune  for  me  ?  "  he 
asked,  with  the  timid  air  of  a  Corydon. 

Clara  seated  herself  at  the  piano  and  began  plajang  Beetho- 
ven's Sonatas,  commencing  with  the  first.  Ratcliff  was  horri- 
bly bored.  After  he  had  listened  for  what  seemed  to  him  an 
intolerable  period,  he  interrupted  the  peribrmance  by  saying, 
"  All  that  is  very  fine,  but  I  fear  it  is  fatiguing  to  you." 

"  Not  at  all.  I  can  go  through  the  whole  book  without 
fatigue." 

"  Don't  think  of  it !  What  have  you  here  ?  '  Willis's 
Poems.'     Ai-e  you  fond  of  poetry.  Miss  Murray  ? " 

"  I  am  fond  of  poetry ;  but  my  name  is  not  Murray." 

"  Indeed  !     What  may  it  then  be  ?  " 

"  My  name  is  Berwick.  I  am  no  slave,  though  kidnapped 
and  sold  as  such  while  an  infant.  You  bought  me.  But  you 
would  not  lend  yourself  to  a  fraud,  would  you  ?  I  must  be 
free.  You  shall  be  paid  with  interest  for  all  your  outlays  in 
my  behalf.     Is  not  that  fair  ?  " 

"  I  am  too  much  interested  in  your  welfare,  my  dear  young 
lady,  to  consent  to  giving  you  up.  You  will  find  it  impossible 
to  prove  this  fanciful  story  which  some  unfriendly  person  has 
put  into  your  head.  Even  if  it  were  true,  you  could  never 
recover  your  rights.  But  it  is  all  chimerical.  Don't  indulge 
so  illusory  a  hope.  What  I  ofier,  on  the  other  hand,  is  sub- 
stantial, solid,  certain.  As  my  wife  you  would  be  lifted  at 
once  to  a  position  second  to  that  of  no  lady  in  the  land." 


HOPES  AND   FEARS.  411 

Clara  inadvertently  gave  way  to  a  shudder  of  dislike.  Rat- 
cliff  noticed  it,  and  rising,  drew  nearer  to  her  and  asked, 
^'  Have  I  ever  given  you  any  cause  for  aversion  ? " 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  starting  up  from  the  music-chair,  —  <'  the 
cause  which  the  master  must  always  give  the  slave." 

"  But  if  I  were  to  remove  that  objection,  could  you  not  like 
me?" 

"  Impossible ! " 

"  Have  I  ever  done  anything  to  prevent  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  much." 

"  Surely  not  toward  you  ;  and  if  not  toward  you,  toward 
whom  ?  " 

"  Toward  Estelle  ! "  said  Clara,  roused  to  an  intrepid  scorn, 
which  carried  her  beyond  the  bounds  at  once  of  prudence  and 
of  fear. 

Had  Ratcliff  seen  Estelle  rise  bodily  before  him,  he  could 
not  have  been  struck  more  to  the  heart  with  an  emotion  par- 
taking at  once  of  awe  and  of  rage.  The  habitually  florid  hue 
of  liis  cheeks  faded  to  a  pale  purple.  He  swung  his  arms 
awkwardly,  as  if  at  a  loss  what  to  do  with  them.  He  paced 
the  floor  wildly,  and  finally  gasping  forth,  "Young  woman, 
you  shall  —  you  shall  repent  this,"  left  the  room. 

He  did  not  make  his  appearance  in  Clara's  parlor  again  that 
day.  It  was  already  late  in  the  afternoon.  Dinner  was  nearly 
ready.  The  consideration  that  such  serious  excitement  would 
be  bad  for  his  appetite  gradually  calmed  him  down  ;  and  by 
the  time  he  was  called  to  the  table  he  had  thrown  off  the 
effects  of  the  shock  which  a  single  word  had  given  him.  The 
dinner  was  a  repetition  of  that  of  the  day  before,  varied  by  the 
production  of  new  dishes  and  wdnes.  Sam  was  evidently  doing 
his  best  as  a  caterer.  Again  Ratcliff  sat  late,  and  again  Sam 
saw  him  safe  up-staii-s  and  helped  him  to  undress.  And  again 
the  slave-lord  slept  late  into  the  hours  of  the  forenoon. 

After  breakfast  on  the  third  day  of  his  retui-n  he  paced  the 
back  piazza  for  some  two  hours,  smoking  cigars.  He  had  no 
thought  but  for  the  one  scheme  before  him.  To  be  baffled  in 
that  was  to  lose  all.  Public  affairs  sank  into  insignificance. 
Sam  handed  him  a  newspaper,  but  without  glancing  at  it  he 
threw  it  over  the  balustrade  into  the  area.    "  She 's  but  a  way- 


412  PECL'LIAR. 

ward  girl,  after  all !  I  must  be  patient  with  her,"  thought  he, 
one  moment.  And  the  next  his  mood  varied,  and  he  muttered 
to  himself:  "  A  slave  !  Damnation  !  To  be  treated  so  by  a 
slave,  —  one  I  could  force  to  drudge  instead  of  letting  her  play 
the  lady ! " 

Suddenly  he  went  up-stairs  and  paid  her  a  third  visit  His 
manner  and  speech  were  abrupt. 

"  I  wish  to  deal  with  you  gently  and  generously,"  said  he  ; 
"  and  I  beseech  you  not  to  compel  me  to  resort  to  harshness. 
You  are  legally  my  slave,  whatever  fancies  you  may  entertain 
as  to  youi*  origin  or  as  to  a  flaw  in  my  title.  You  can  prove 
nothing,  or  if  you  could,  it  would  avail  you  notliing,  against 
the  power  which  I  can  exert  in  this  community.  I  tell  you  I 
could  this  veiy  day,  in  the  mere  exercise  of  my  legal  rights, 
consign  you  to  the  ownership  of  those  w^ho  would  look  upon 
your  delicate  nui-ture,  your  assured  manners,  and  youi'  airs  of 
a  lady,  merely  as  so  many  baits  enhancing  the  wages  of  your 
infamy ;  who  w^uld  subject  you  to  gross  companionship  wath 
the  brutal  and  the  merciless  ;  who  would  scourge  you  into 
compliance  with  any  base  uses  to  which  they  might  choose  to 
put  you.  Fair-faced  slaves  are  forced  to  such  things  every 
day.  Instead  of  surrendering  yourself  to  liabilities  like  these, 
you  have  it  in  your  power  to  take  the  honorable  position  of 
my  wife,  —  a  position  where  you  could  dispense  good  to  others 
while  having  every  luxury  that  heart  could  covet  for  yourself. 
Now  decide,  and  decide  quickly ;  for  I  can  no  longer  endure 
this  torturing  suspense  in  which  you  have  kept  me.  Will  you 
accede  to  my  wishes,  or  will  you  not  ?  " 

"  I  will  not ! "  said  Clara,  in  a  firm  and  steady  tone. 

"  Then  remember,"  replied  Ratcliff,  "  it  is  your  own  hands 
that  have  made  the  foul  bed  in  which  you  prefer  to  lie." 

And  wath  these  terrible  words  he  quitted  the  room. 

Frightened  at  her  own  temerity,  Clara  at  once  sank  upon 
her  knees,  and  called  with  earnest  supplication  on  the  Supreme 
Father  for  protection.  Blending  with  her  own  words  those 
immortal  formulas  which  the  inspii-ed  David  wrote  down  for 
the  help  and  refreshing  of  devout  souls  throughout  all  time, 
she  exclaimed  :  ''  Thou  art  my  hiding-place  and  my  shield :  I 
hope  in  thy  word.    Seven  times  a  day  do  I  praise  thee  because 


HOPES  AND   FEARS.  413 

of  thy  righteous  judgments.  Wonderfully  hast  thou  led  me 
heretofore  :  forsake  me  not  in  this  extreme.  Save  now,  I  be- 
seech thee,  O  Lord ;  send  now  prosperity !  Let  thine  hand 
help  me.  Deliver  my  soul  from  deaths  mine  eyes  from  tears, 
and  my  feet  from  falling.  Out  of  the  depth  I  cry  unto  thee.  O 
Lord,  hear  my  voice,  and  be  attentive  unto  my  supplications." 

As  she  remained  with  head  bent  and  arms  crossed  upon  her 
bosom,  motionless  as  some  sculptured  saint,  she  suddenly  felt 
the  touch  of  a  hand  on  her  head,  and  started  up.  It  was  Sister 
Agatha,  who  had  come  to  bid  her  good  by.' 

"  But  you  're  not  going  to  leave  me  ! "  cried  Clara. 

"  Yes  ;  I  've  been  told  to  go." 

"  By  whom  have  you  been  told  to  go  ?  " 

"  By  the  gentleman  who  now  takes  charge  of  you,  —  Mr. 
Ratcliflf." 

«  But  he  's  a  bad  man  !  Look  at  him,  study  him,  and  you  'U 
be  convinced." 

"0  no !  he  has  given  me  fifty  dollars  to  distribute  among 
the  poor.  If  you  were  in  your  senses,  my  child,  you  would 
not  call  him  bad.  He  is  your  best  earthly  friend.  You  must 
heed  all  he  says.     Agnes  will  remain  to  wait  on  you." 

"  Agnes  ?  I  've  no  faith  in  that  girl.  I  fear  she  is  corrupt ; 
that  money  could  tempt  her  to  much  that  is  wrong." 

"  What  fancies  !  Poor  child  !  But  this  is  one  of  the  signs 
of  your  disease,  —  this  disposition  to  see  enemies  in  those 
around  you.  There  !  you  must  let  me  go.  The  Lord  help 
and  cure  you  !     Farewell ! " 

Sister  Agatha  Tvdthdrew  herself  from  Clara's  despairing 
grasp  and  eager  pleadings,  and,  passing  into  the  sleeping-room, 
opened  the  farther  door  which  led  into  the  bilHard-room^  of  the 
door  of  which,  communicating  with  the  entry,  she  had  the  key. 
For  the  moment  Hope  seemed  to  vanish  from  Clara's  heart 
with  the  departing  form  of  the  Sister;  for,  simple  as  she  was, 
she  was  still  a  protection  against  outrage.  No  shame  could 
come  while  Sister  Agatha  was  present. 

Suddenly  the  idea  occurred  to  Clara  that  she  had  not  tested 
all  the  possibiHties  of  escape.  She  ran  and  tried  the  doors. 
They  were  aU  locked.  We  have  seen  that  she  had  the  range 
of  a  suite  of  three  large  rooms  :  a  front  room  serving  as°a 


414  PECULIAR. 

parlor  and  connected  by  a  corridor,  having  closets  and  doors  at 
either  end,  with  the  sleeping-room  looking  out  on  the  garden 
in  the  rear.  This  sleeping-room,  as  you  looked  from  the  win- 
dows, communicated  with  the  billiaid-room  on  the  left,  and  had 
one  door,  also  on  tlie  left,  communicating  with  the  entry  on 
which  you  came  from  the  stairs.  This  door  was  locked  on  the 
outside.  The  parlor  also  communicated  with  this  entry  or  hall 
by  a  door  on  the  left,  locked  on  the  outside.  The  house  was 
built  very  much  after  the  style  of  most  modem  city  houses,  so 
that  it  is  not  difficult  to  form  a  clear  idea  of  Clara's  position. 

Finding  the  doors  were  secure  against  any  effort  of  hers  to 
force  them,  it  occurred  to  her  to  throw  into  the  street  a  letter 
containing  an  appeal  for  succor  to  the  person  who  might  pick  it 
up.  She  hastily  wrote  a  few  lines  describing  her  situation,  the 
room  where  she  was  confined,  the  fraud  by  wliich  she  was  held 
a  slave,  and  giving  the  name  of  the  street,  the  number  of  the 
house,  &c.  Tliis  she  signed  Clara  A.  Berwick.  Then  rolling 
it  up  in  a  handkerchief  with  a  paper-weight  she  threw  it  out  of 
the  window  far  into  the  street.  Ah  !  It  went  beyond  the  oppo- 
site sidewalk,  over  the  fence,  and  into  the  tall  grass  of  the 
little  ornamented  park  in  front  of  the  house  ! 

She  could  have  wept  at  the  disappointment.  Should  she 
write  another  letter  and  try  again  ?  While  she  was  considering 
the  matter,  she  saw  a  well-dressed  lady  and  gentleman  prom- 
enading. She  cried  out "  Help  !  "  But  before  she  could  repeat 
the  cry  a  hand  was  put  upon  her  mouth,  and  the  window  was 
shut  down. 

"  No,  INIissis,  can't  'low  dat,"  said  the  chuckling  voice  of 
Agnes. 

Clara  took  the  girl  by  the  hand,  made  her  sit  down,  and  then, 
with  all  the  persuasiveness  she  could  summon,  tried  to  reach  her 
better  nature,  and  induce  her  to  aid  in  her  escape.  Failing  in 
the  effort  to  move  the  girl's  heart,  Clara  appealed  to  her  acquisi- 
tiveness, promising  a  large  reward  in  money  for  such  help  as 
she  could  give.  But  the  girl  had  been  pre-persuaded  by  Rat- 
cliff  that  Clara's  promises  were  not  to  be  relied  upon  ;  and  so, 
disbelieving  them  utterly,  she  simply  shook  her  head  and  sim- 
pered. How  could  Agnes,  a  slave,  presume  to  disobey  a  great 
man  like  Massa  Ratcliff  ?     Besides,  he  meant  the  young  missis 


HOPES  AND  FEARS.  415 

no  harm.  He  only  wanted  to  make  her  his  wife.  Why  should 
she  be  so  obstinate  about  it?  Agnes  couldn't  see  the  sense 
of  it. 

During  the  rest  of  the  day,  Clara  felt  for  the  fii'st  time  that 
her  every  movement  was  watched.  K  she  went  to  the  window, 
Agnes  was  by  her  side.  If  she  took  up  a  bodkin,  Agnes 
seemed  ready  to  spring  upon  her  and  snatch  it  from  her  hand. 

Terrible  reflections  brought  their  gloom.  Clara  recalled  the 
case  of  a  slave-girl  which  she  had  heard  only  the  day  before 
her  last  walk  with  Esha.  It  was  the  case  of  a  girl  quite  white 
belonging  to  a  Madame  Coutreil,  residing  just  below  the  city. 
This  girl,  for  attempting  to  run  away,  had  been  placed  in  a  filthy 
dungeon,  and  a  tliick,  heavy  iron  ring  or  yoke,  surmounted  by 
three  prongs,  fastened  about  her  neck.*     If  a  mistress  could  do 

*  This  yoke  was  on  exhibition  several  months  at  Williams  and  Everett's, 
Washington  Street,  Boston,  it  having  been  sent  by  Governor  Andrew  with  a 
letter,  the  original  of  which  we  have  before  us  while  we  write.  It  bears  date 
September  10th,  1863.  It  says  of  this  yoke  (which  we  have  held  in  our 
hands),  that  it  "  was  cut  from  the  neck  of  a  slave  girl  "  who  had  worn  it  "  for 
three  weary  months.  An  officer  of  Massachusetts  Volunteers,  whose  letter  I 
enclose  to  you,  sent  me  this  memento,"  &c.  That  officer's  original  letter, 
signed  S.  Tyler  Read,  Captain  Third  Massachusetts  Cavalry,  is  also  before 
us.  He  writes  to  the  Governor  of  Massachusetts,  that,  having  been  sent  with 
a  detachment  of  troops  down  the  river  to  search  suspected  premises  on  the 
plantation  of  Madame  Coutreil,  his  attention  was  attracted  by  a  smaU  house, 
closed  tightly,  and  about  nine  or  ten  feet  square.  "  I  demanded,"  writes  Cap- 
tain Read,  "  the  keys,  and  after  unlocking  double  doors  found  myself  in  the 
entrance  of  a  dark  and  loathsome  dungeon.  '  In  Heaven's  name,  what  have 
you  here?  '  I  exclaimed  to  the  slave  mistress.  '  0,  only  a  little  girlf  —  she 
runned  away  ! '  I  peered  into  the  darkness,  and  was  able  to  discover,  sitting  at 
one  end  of  the  room  upon  a  low  stool,  a  girl  about  eighteen  years  of  age.  She 
had  this  iron  torture  riveted  about  her  neck,  where  it  had  rusted  through  the  skin,  and 
lay  corroding  apparently  upon  the  flesh.  Her  head  was  bowed  upon  her  hands, 
and  she  was  almost  insensible  from  emaciation  and  immersion  in  the  foul  air 

of  her  dungeon.    She  was  quite  white I  had  the  girl  taken  to  the  city, 

where  this  torture  Avas  removed  from  her  neck  by  a  blacksmith,  who  cut  the 
rivet,  and  she  was  subsequently  made  free  by  military  authority." 

See  in  the  Atlantic  Monthly  (July,  1863)  a  paper  entitled  "  Our  General," 
from  the  pen  of  one  who  served  as  Deputj'-  Provost  Marshal  in  New  Orleans. 
His  facts  are  corroborated  both  by  General  Butler  and  Governor  Shepley, 
who  took  pains  to  authenticate  them.  A  girl,  "  a  perfect  blonde,  her  hair  of 
a  very  pretty,  light  shade  of  brown,  and  perfectly  straight,"  had  been  pub- 
licly whipped  by  her  master  (who  was  also  her  father),  and  then  "forced  to 
marry  a  colored  man."  We  spare  our  readers  the  mention  of  the  most  loath- 
some fact  in  the  narrative. 

Another  case  is  stated  by  the  same  writer.    A  mulatto  girl,  the  slave  of 


il6  PECULIAR. 

such  things,  what  barbarity  might  not  a  master  like  Ratcliff 
attempt  ? 


And  where  was  Ratchff"  all  this  while  ? 

Still  keeping  in  the  house,  brooding  on  the  one  scheme  on 
which  he  had  set  his  heart.  He  smoked  cigars,  stretched  him- 
self on  sofas,  cui-sed  the  perversity  of  the  sex,  and  theorized  as 
to  the  eflSlcacy  of  extreme  measm'es  in  taming  certain  feminine 
tempei*s.  Was  not  a  woman,  after  all,  something  like  a  horse  ? 
Had  he  not  seen  Rarey  tame  the  most  furious  mare  by  a  simple 
process  which  did  not  involve  beating  or  cruelty?  The  con- 
sideration was  curious,  —  a  matter  for  philosophy  to  ruminate. 

Ratcliff  dined  late  that  day.  It  was  almost  dark  enough 
for  the  gas  to  be  lighted  when  he  sat  down  to  the  table.  The 
viands  were  the  choicest  of  the  season,  but  he  hardly  did  them 
justice.  All  the  best  wines  were  on  the  sideboard.  Sam 
filled  thi-ee  glasses  with  hock,  champagne,  and  burgundy ;  but, 
to  his  surprise  and  secret  disappointment,  Ratcliff  did  not  emp- 
ty one  of  them.  "  ]Mr.  Semmes  used  to  praise  this  Rudesheimer 
very  highly,"  said  Sam,-  insinuatingly.  Ratcliff  simply  raised 
his  hand  imperiously  with  a  gesture  imposing  silence.  He 
sipped  half  a  glass  of  the  red  ^^ine,  then  drank  a  cup  of  coffee, 
then  lit  a  cigar,  and  resumed  his  walk  on  the  piazza. 

It  was  now  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening.  Without  taking  off 
any  of  her  clothes,  Clara  had  lain  down  on  the  bed.  Agnes 
sat  s6wing  at  a  table  near  by.  The  room  was  brilliantly 
illuminated  by  two  gas-burners.  Light  also  came  through 
the  corridor  fi-om  a  burner  in  the  parlor.  Every  few  minutes 
the  chambermaid  would  look  round  searchingly,  as  if  to  see 
whether  the  young  '•  missis  "  were  asleep.  In  order  to  learn 
what  effect  it  would  have,  Clara  shut  her  eyes  and  breathed  as 

one  Landry,  was  brought  to  General  Butler.  She  had  been  brutally  scourged 
by  her  master.  He  confessed  to  the  castigation,  but  pleaded  that  she  had 
tried  to  get  her  freedom.  The  poor  girl's  back  had  been  flayed  '•'  until  the 
quivering  flesh  resembled  a  fresh  beefsteak  scorched  on  a  gridiron."  It  was 
declared  by  influential  citizens,  who  interceded  for  him,  that  Landiy  was  (we 
quote  the  recorded  words) ''  not  only  a  high-toned  gentleman,  but  a  person  of 
unusual  amiabihty  of  character."  General  Butler  freed  the  gir],  and  com- 
pelled the  high-toned  Landry  to  pay  over  to  her  the  sura  of  five  hundred 
dollars. 


HOPES  AND  FEARS.  417 

if  lost  in  slumber.  Agnes  put  down  her  work,  moved  stealth- 
ily to  the  bed,  and  gently  felt  around  the  maiden's  waist  and 
bosom,  as  if  to  satisfy  herself  there  was  no  weapon  concealed 
about  her  person. 

While  the  negro  woman  was  thus  engaged,  there  was  a  sound 
as  if  a  key  had  dropped  on  the  billiard-room  floor,  which  was 
of  oak  and  uncarpeted.  Agnes  stopped  and  listened  as  if  puz- 
zled. There  was  then  a  sound  as  if  the  outer  door  of  the 
billiard-room  communicating  with  the  entry  were  unlocked  and 
ojDcned.  Agnes  went  up  to  the  mantel-piece  and  looked  at  the 
clock,  and  then  listened  again  intently. 

There  was  now  a  low  knock  from  the  billiard-room  at  the 
chamber-door,  which  was  locked  on  the  inside,  and  the  key  of 
which  was  left  in  while  Agnes  was  present,  but  which  she  was 
accustomed  to  take  out  and  leave  on  the  billiard-room  side 
when  she  quitted  the  apartments  to  go  down-stairs. 

Before  unlocking  the  door  on  this  occasion  she  asked  in  a 
whisper,  "  Who  's  dar  ?  " 

The  reply  came,  "  Sam." 

«  What 's  de  matter  ?  " 

"  I  want  to  speak  with  you  a  minute.     Open  the  door." 

"  Can't  do  it,  Sam.     It 's  agin  orders." 

"  Well,  no  matter.  I  only  thought  you  'd  like  to  tell  me 
what  sort  of  a  shawl  to  get." 

"  What  ?  —  what 's  dat  you  say  'bout  a  shawl  ?  " 

"  The  Massa  has  given  me  ten  dollars  to  buy  a  silk  shawl  for 
you.     What  color  do  you  want  ?  " 

Clara  heard  every  word  of  this  little  dialogue.  It  was  fol- 
lowed by  the  chambermaid's  unlocking  the  door,  taking  out  the 
key  and  entering  the  billiard-room.  Clara  started  from  the 
bed,  and  went  and  listened.  The  only  words  she  could  distin- 
guish were,  "  I  '11  jes  run  up-stairs  an'  git  a  pattern  fur  yer." 
Clara  tried  the  door,  but  found  it  locked.  She  listened  jet 
more  intently.  There  was  no  further  sound.  She  waited  five 
minutes,  then  went  back  to  the  bed  and  sat  down. 

A  sense  of  something  incommunicable  and  mysterious  weigh- 
ed upon  her  brain  and  agitated  her  thoughts.  It  was  as  if  she 
were  enclosed  by  an  atmosphere  impenetrable  to  intelligences 
that  were  trying  to  reach  her  brain.     For  a  week  she  had  seen 

18*  AA 


418  PECULIAR. 

no  newspaper.  "WTiat  had  happened  during  that  time  ?  Great 
events  were  impending.  What  shape  had  they  taken  ?  The 
terror  of  the  Vague  and  the  Unknown  dilated  her  eyes  and 
thrilled  her  heart. 

As  she  sat  there  breathless,  she  heard  through  the  window, 
open  at  the  top,  the  distant  beat  of  music.  The  tune  was  dis- 
tinguishable rather  by  the  vibrations  of  the  air  than  by  audible 
notes.  But  it  seemed  to  Clara  as  if  a  full  band  were  playing 
the  Star-Spangled  Banner.  What  could  it  mean?  Nothing. 
The  tune  was  claimed  both  by  Rebels  and  Loyalists. 

Hark !  It  had  changed.  What  was  it  now  ?  Surely  that 
must  be  the  air  of  "  Hail  Columbia."  Never  before,  since  the 
breaking  out  of  the  Rebellion,  had  she  heard  that  tune.  As 
the  wind  now  and  then  capriciously  favored  the  music,  it  came 
more  distinct  to  her  ears.     There  could  be  no  mistake. 

And  now  the  motion  of  the  sounds  was  brisk,  rapid,  and  lively. 
Could  it  be  ?  Yes  !  These  rash  serenaders,  whoever  they  were, 
had  actually  ventured  to  play  "  Yankee  Doodle."  Was  it  possi- 
ble the  authorities  allowed  such  outrages  on-  Rebel  sensibilities  ? 

And  now  the  sounds  ceased,  but  only  for  a  moment.  A 
slower,  a  grand  and  majestic  strain,  succeeded.  It  arrested  her 
closest  attention.  What  was  it  ?  What  ?  She  had  heard  it 
before,  but  where  ?  When  ?  What  association,  strange  yet 
tender,  did  it  have  for  her  ?  Why  did  it  thrill  and  rouse  her 
as  none  of  the  other  tunes  had  done  ?  Suddenly  she  remem- 
bered it  was  that  fearful  "John  Brown  Hallelujah  Chorus," 
which  Vance  had  played  and  sung  for  her  the  first  evening  of 
their  acquaintance. 

The  music  ceased  ;  and  she  listened  vainly  for  its  renewal. 
All  at  once  a  harsh  sound,  that  chilled  her  heart,  and  seemed  to 
concentrate  all  her  senses  in  one,  smote  on  her  ears.  The  key 
of  the  parlor  door  was  slowly  turned.  There  was  a  step,  and 
it  seemed  to  be  the  step  of  a  man. 

Clara  started  up  and  pressed  both  hands  on  her  bosom,  to 
keep  down  the  flutterings  of  her  heart,  which  beat  till  a  sense 
of  suffocation  came  over  her. 

The  awe  and  suspense  of  that  moment  seemed  to  protract  it 
into  a  whole  hour  of  suffering.  "  God  help  me !  "  was  all  she 
could  murmur.     Her  terror  grew  insupportable.      The   steps 


HOPES   AND   FEARS.  419 

came  over  the  carpet,  —  they  fell  on  the  tessellated  marble  of 
the  little  closet-passage,  —  they  drew  near  the  half-open  door 
which  now  alone  intervened. 

Then  there  was  a  knock  on  the  wood-work.  She  wanted  to 
say,  "  Who 's  there  ?  "  but  her  tongue  refused  its  office.  The 
strength  seemed  ebbing  from  every  limb.  Horror  at  the 
thought  of  her  helplessness  came  over  her.  Then  a  form  — 
the  form  of  a  man  —  stood  before  her.  She  uttered  one  cry, 
—  a  simple  "  Oh  ! "  —  and  sinking  at  liis  feet,  put  her  arms 
about  his  knees  and  pressed  against  them  her  head. 

There  are  times  when  a  brief,  hardly  articulate  utterance,  — 
a  simple  intonation,  —  seems  to  carry  in  it  whole  volumes  of 
meaning.  That  single  Oh  !  —  how  much  of  heart-history  it 
conveyed !  In  its  expression  of  transition  from  mortal  terror 
to  entire  trustfulness  and  delight,  it  was  almost  childlike.  It 
spoke  of  unexpected  relief,  —  of  a  joyful  surprise,  —  of  a  grati- 
tude without  bounds,  —  of  an  awful  sense  of  angelic  guardian- 
ship, —  of  an  inward  faith  vindicated  and  fulfilled  against  a  tu- 
multuous crowd  of  selfish  external  fears  and  misgivings. 

The  man  whose  appearance  had  called  forth  this  intensified 
utterance  wore  the  military  cap  and  insignia  of  a  Colonel  in 
the  United  States  service.  His  figure  seemed  made  for  endur- 
ance, though  remarkable  for  neatness  and  symmetry.  His  face 
was  that  of  one  past  the  middle  stage,  —  one  to  whom  life  had 
not  been  one  unvaried  holiday.  The  cheeks  were  bronzed ;  the 
eyes  mobile  and  penetrating,  the  mouth  singularly  sweet  and 
fii-m.     Clara  knew  the  face.     It  was  that  of  Vance. 

He  lifted  her  flaccid  form  from  the  posture  in  which  she  had 
thrown  herself,  —  lifted  and  supported  it  against  his  breast  as 
if  to  give  her  the  full  assurance  of  safety  and  protection.  Sbe 
opened  her  eyes  upon  him  as  thus  they  stood,  —  eyes  now 
beaming  with  reverential  gratitude  and  transport.  He  looked 
at  them  closely. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  there  they  are !  the  blue  and  the  gray ! 
Why  did  I  not  notice  them  before  ?  " 

"  Ah ! "  she  cried.  "  Here  is  my  di-eam  fulfilled.  You  have 
at  last  taken  from  them  that  letter  which  lay  there." 

There  was  the  sound  of  footsteps  on  the  landing  in  the  upper 
hall.     Clara  instinctively  thi'ew  an  arm  over  Vance's  shoul- 


420  PECULIAR. 

der.  The  key  of  the  chamber-door  was  turned,  and  Ratcliff 
entered. 

He  had  been  pacing  the  piazza  and  smoking  uncounted 
cigars.  The  distant  music,  which  to  Clara's  aroused  senses 
had  been  so  audible,  had  not  been  heard  by  him.  He  had  not 
dreamed  of  any  interruption  of  his  plans.  Was  he  not  dealing 
with  a  slave  in  a  house  occupied  by  slaves  ?  What  possible 
service  was  there  he  could  not  claim  of  a  slave  ?  Were  not 
slaves  made  every  day  to  scourge  slaves,  even  their  own  wives 
and  children,  till  the  backs  of  the  suiferers  were  seamed  and 
bloody  ?  Besides,  he  had  fortitied  the  fidelity  of  one  of  them  — 
of  Agnes  —  by  presents  and  by  flatteries.  Even  the  revolver 
he  /usually  cai'ried  with  him  was  laid  aside  in  one  of  the  drawers 
of  his  dressing-room  as  not  likely  to  be  wanted. 

On  entering  the  chamber,  Ratcliff,  before  perceiving  that 
there  was  an  unexpected  occupant,  turned  and  relocked  the 
door  on  the  inside. 

Was  it  some  vision,  the  product  of  an  incantation,  that  now 
rose  before  his  eyes  ?  For  there  stood  the  maiden  on  whose 
compliance  he  had  so  wreaked  all  the  energy  of  his  tyrannical 
will,  —  his  own  purchased  slave  and  thrall,  —  cr£ature  bound 
to  serve  either  his  brute  desires  or  his  most  menial  exactions, 
—  there  she  stood,  in  the  attitude  of  entire  trust  and  affection, 
folded  in  the  arms  of  a  man ! 

Instantly  Ratcliff  reflected  that  he  was  unarmed,  and  he 
kimed  and  unlocked  the  door  to  rush  down-stairs  after  his 
revolver.  But  Vance  was  too  swift  for  him.  Placing  Clara 
in  a  chair,  quick  as  the  tiger-cat  springs  on  his  prey,  he  darted 
upon  Ratcliff,  and  before  the  latter  could  pass  out  on  to  the 
landing,  relocked  the  door  and  took  the  key.  Then  dragging 
him  into  the  middle  of  the  room,  he  held  him  by  a  temble  grip 
on  the  shoulders  at  arm's  length,  face  to  face. 

'•  Now  look  at  me  well,"  said  Vance.  '•  You  have  seen  me 
before.     Do  you  recognize  me  now  ?  " 

Wild  with  a  rage  to  which  all  other  experiences  of  wrath 
were  as  a  zephyr  to  a  tornado,  Ratcliff  yet  had  the  cuiiosity  to 
look,  and  that  look  brought  in  a  new  emotion  which  made  even 
his  wrath  subordinate.  For  the  first  time  in  more  than  twenty 
years  he  recognized  the  man  who  had  once  offended  him  at 


HOPES  AND   FEARS.  421 

the  theatre,  —  who  had  once  knocked  him  down  on  board  a 
steamboat  m  the  eyes  of  neighbors  and  vassals,  —  who  had 
robbed  him  of  one  beautiful  slave  girl,  and  was  now  robbing 
him  of  another.  Yes,  it  never  once  occuiTcd  to  Ratcliff  that 
he,  a  South  Carolinian,  a  man  born  to  command,  was  not  the 
aggrieved  and  injured  party  ! 

Vance  stood  with  a  look  like  that  of  St.  George  spearing  the 
dragon.  The  past,  with  all  its  horrors,  surged  up  on  his  recol- 
lection. He  thought  of  that  day  of  Estelle's  abduction,  —  of 
the  escape  and  recapture,  —  of  that  scene  at  the  whipping-post, 
—  of  the  celestial  smile  she  bent  on  him  through  her  agony,  — 
of  the  scourging  he  himself  underwent,  the  scars  of  which  he 
yet  bore,  —  of  those  dreadful  hours  when  he  clung  to  the  loos- 
ened raft  in  the  river,  —  of  the  death*scene,  the  euthanasia  of 
Estelle,  of  his  own  despair  and  madness. 

And  here,  before  him,  within  his  grasp,  was  the  author  of 
all  these  barbarities  and  indignities  !  Here  was  the  man  who 
had  ordered  and  superintended  the  scourging  of  one  in  whom 
all  the  goodness  and  grace  that  ever  made  womanhood  lovely 
and  adorable  had  met !  Here  was  the  haughty  scoundrel  who 
had  thought  to  bind  her  in  marriage  with  one  of  his  own 
slaves !  Here  was  the  insolent  ruffian !  Here  the  dastard 
murderer !  What  punishment  could  be  equal  to  his  crimes  ? 
Death  ?  His  life  so  worthless  for  hers  so  precious  beyond  all 
reckoning  ?  Oh !  that  would  go  but  a  small  way  toward  paying 
the  enormous  debt ! 

Vance  carried  in  a  secret  pocket  a  pistol,  and  wore  a  small 
sword  at  his  side.  This  last  weapon  Ratcliff  tried  to  grasp, 
but  failed.  Vance  looked  inquiringly  about  the  room.  Rat- 
chff  felt  his  danger,  and  struggled  with  the  energy  of  despair. 
Vance,  with  the  easy  knack  of  an  adroit  wrestler,  threw  him 
on  the  floor,  then  dragging  him  toward  the  closet,  pulled  from 
a  nail  a  thick  leather  strap  which  hung  there,  having  been 
detached  from  a  trunk.  Then  hurling  Ratcliff  into  the  middle 
of  the  room,  he  collared  him  before  he  could  rise,  and  brought 
down  the  blows,  sharp,  quick,  vigorous,  on  face,  back,  shoul- 
dei-s,  till  a  shriek  of  "  murder  "  was  wrung  from  the  proud  lips 
of  the  humbled  adversary. 

Suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  these  inflictions,  Vance  felt  his 


422  PECULIAK. 

arm  arrested  by  a  finn  grasp.  He  disengaged  himself  with  a 
start  that  was  feline  in  its  instant  evasiveness,  turned,  and  be- 
fore him  stood  Peek,  interposing  between  him  and  the  prostrate 
Ratcliff. 

"  Stand  aside,  Peek,"  said  Vance  ;  "  I  have  hardly  begun 
yet.     You  are  the  last  man  to  intercede  for  this  wretch." 

"  Not  one  more  blow,  ISLr.  Vance." 

"  Stand  aside,  I  say !  Come  not  between  me  and  my  mortal 
foe.  Have  I  not  for  long  years  looked  forward  to  this  hour  ? 
Have  I  not  toiled  for  it,  dreamed  of  it,  hungered  for  it  ?  " 

"  No,  Mr.  Vance,  I  '11  not  think  so  poorly  of  you  as  to  believe 
you  've  done  any  such  thing.  It  was  to  right  a  great  wrong 
that  you  have  toiled,  —  not  to  wreak  a  poor  revenge  on  flesh 
and  blood."  • 

"  No  preaching.  Peek  !  Stand  out  of  the  way  !  I  'd  sooner 
forego  my  hope  of  heaven  than  be  balked  now.     Away  !  " 

'"  Have  I  ever  done  that  which  entitles  me  to  ask  a  favor  of 
you,  Mr.  Vance  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  for  that  reason  I  will  requite  the  scars  you  yourself 
bear.     The  scourger  shall  be  scourged." 

"  Would  you  not  do  her  bidding,  could  you  hear  it ;  and  can 
you  doubt  that  she  would  say,  Forgive  ?  " 

Vance  recoiled  for  a  moment,  then  replied :  "  You  have  used 
the  last  appeal ;  but  't  will  not  serve.  3fy  wrongs  I  can  for- 
give. Tours  I  can  forgive.  But  he7's,  never  !  Once  more  I 
say,  Stand  aside  !  " 

''  You  shall  not  give  him  another  blow,"  said  Peek. 

"Shall  not?" 

And  before  he  could  offer  any  resistance  Peek  had  been 
thrown  to  the  other  side  of  the  room  so  as  to  fall  backward  on 
bis  hands. 

Then,  in  a  moment,  Vance  seemed  to  regret  the  act.  He 
jumped  forward,  helped  the  negro  up,  begged  his  pardon,  say- 
ing :  "  Forgive  me,  my  dear,  dear  Peek  !  Have  your  own 
■way.  Do  with  this  man  as  you  like.  Have  n't  you  the  right  ? 
Did  n't  you  once  save  my  life  ?  Are  you  hurt  ?  Do  you  for- 
give me  ?  "     And  the  tears  sprang  to  Vance's  eyes. 

"  No  harm  done,  Mr.  Vance  !  But  you  are  quick  as  light- 
ning." 


HOPES  AND  FEARS.  423 

"  Look  at  me,  Peek.  Let  me  see  from  your  face  that  I  'm 
forgiven." 

And  Peek  turned  on  him  such  an  expression,  at  once  tender 
and  benignant,  that  Vance,  seeing  they  understood  each  other, 
was  reassured. 

Clara  had  sat  all  this  time  intently  watching  every  move- 
ment, but  too  weak  from  agitation  to  interfere,  even  if  she  had 
been  so  disposed. 

Ratcliff,  recovering  from  the  confusion  of  brain  produced  by 
the  rapid  blows  he  had  endured,  looked  to  see  to  whom  he  had 
been  indebted  for  help.  In  all  the  whims  of  Fate,  could  it  be 
there  was  one  like  this  in  reserve  ?  Yes  !  that  negro  was  the 
same  he,  Ratcliff,  had  once  caused  to  be  scourged  till  three 
men  were  wearied  out  in  the  labor  of  lashing.  The  fellow's 
back  must  be  all  furrowed  and  criss-crossed  with  the  marks  got 
from  him,  Ratcliff.  Yet  here  was  the  nigger,  coming  to  the 
succor  of  his  old  master !  The  instinct  of  servility  was  stronger 
in  him  even  than  revenge.  Who  would  deny,  after  this,  what 
he,  Ratcliff,  had  often  asserted,  "  Niggers  will  be  niggers  ?  " 

And  so,  instead  of  recognizing  a  godlike  generosity  in  the 
act,  the  slave-driver  saw  in  it  only  the  habit  of  a  base  spirit, 
and  the  wholesome  effect,  upon  an  inferior,  of  that  imposing 
quality  in  his,  Ratcliff 's,  own  nature  and  bearing,  which  showed 
he  was  of  the  master  race,  and  justified  all  his  assumptions. 


Watching  his  opportunity  Ratcliff  crawled  toward  the  bil- 
liard-room door,  and,  suddenly  starting  up,  pulled  it  open, 
thinking  to  escape.  To  his  dismay  he  encountered  a  large 
black  dog  of  the  bloodhound  species,  who  growled  and  showed 
his  teeth  so  viciously  that  Ratcliff  sprang  back.  Following 
the  dog  appeared  a  young  soldier,  who,  casting  round  his  eyes, 
saw  Clara,  and  darting  to  her  side,  seized  and  warmly  pressed 
her  extended  hand.  Overcome  with  amazement,  Ratcliff  reeled 
backward  and  sank  into  an  arm-chair,  for  in  the  soldier  he  rec- 
ognized Captain  Onslow. 

Voices  were  now  heard  on  the  stairs,  and  two  men  appeared. 
One  of  them  was  of  a  compact,  well-built  figure,  and  apparently 
about  fifty  years  old.     He  was  clad  in  a  military  dress,  and  his 


424  PECULIAR. 

aspect  spoke  courage  and  decision.  The  individual  at  his  side, 
and  who  seemed  to  be  paving  court  to  him,  was  a  tall,  oraunt 
figure,  in  the  coarse  uniform  of  the  prison.  He  carried  his 
cap  in  his  hand,  showing  that  half  of  his  head  was  entirely 
bald,  while  the  other  half  was  covered  with  a  matted  mass  of 
reddish-gray  hair. 

This  last  man,  as  he  mounted  the  stairs  and  stood  on  the 
landing,  might  have  been  heard  to  say :  "  Kunnle  Blake,  you  're 
a  high-tone  gemmleman,  ef  you  air  a  Yankee.  You  see  in 
me,  Kunnle,  a  victim  of  the  damdest  ongratitood.  These 
Noo-Orleenz  'ristocrats  could  n't  huv  treated  a  nigger  or  an 
abolitioner  wuss  nor  they  've  treated  me.  I  told  'em  I  wuz 
Virginia-bom  ;  told  'em  what  I  'd  done  fur  thar  damned  Con- 
fed'racy  ;  told  'em  what  a  blasted  good  friend  I  'd  been  to  the 
institootion  ;  but  —  will  you  believe  it  ?  —  they  tuk  me  up  on 
a  low  charge  of  'propriatin'  to  private  use  the  money  they  giv 
me  ter  raise  a  company  with ;  —  they  hahd  me  up  afore  a 
committee  of  close-fisted  old  fogies,  an'  may  I  be  shot  ef  they 
did  n't  order  me  to  be  jugged,  an'  half  of  my  head  to  be 
shaved  !  An'  't  was  did.  Damned  ef  it  warnt !  But  I  '11 
be  even  with  'em,  damn  'em  !  Ef  I  don't,  may  I  be  kept  ter 
work  in  a  rice-swamp  the  rest  of  my  days.  I  '11  let  'em  see 
what  it  is  to  treat  one  of  the  Hyde  blood  in  this  'ere  way,  as 
if  he  war  a  low-lived  corn-cracker.  I  '11  let  'em  see  what  thar 
rotten  institootion  's  wuth.  Ef  they  kn  afford  ter  make  out  of 
a  born  gemmleman  a  scarecrow  like  I  am  now,  ^^'ith  my  half- 
shaved  scalp,  jes  fur  'propriatin'  a  few  of  thar  damned  rags, 
well  and  good.  They  '11  hahv  ter  look  round  lively  afoi-e  they 
kn  find  sich  another  friend  as  Delancey  Hyde  has  been  ter 
King  Cotton,  —  damn  him  !  They  shall  find  Delancy  Hyde 
kn  unmake  as  well  as  make." 

To  these  wrathful  words,  Blake  replied :  "  Perhaps  you  don't 
remember  me,  Colonel  Hyde." 

"  Cuss  me  ef  I  do.  Ef  ever  I  seed  you  afore,  't  was  so  long 
ago  that  it 's  clean  gone  out  of  my  head." 

"  Don't  you  remember  the  policeman  who  made  you  give  up 
the  fugitive  slave,  Peek,  that  day  in  the  lawyer's  office  in  New 
York?" 

"  I  don't  remember  nobody  else  ! "  exclaimed  Hyde,  jubilant 


HOPES   AND   FEARS.  425 

at  the  thought  of  claiming  one  respectable  man  as  an  old  ac- 
quaintance, and  quite  forgetting  the  fact  that  they  had  parted 
as  foes.  '•  Kunnle  Blake,  we  must  liquor  together  the  fust 
chance  we  kn  git.  As  for  Peek,  I  don't  want  to  see  a  higher- 
toned  gemmleman  than  Peek  is,  though  he  is  blacker  than  my 
boot.  Will  you  believe  it,  Kunnle  ?  '  That  ar  nigger,  findin' 
as  how  I  wuz  out  of  money,  arter  Kunnle  Vance  had  tuk  me 
out  of  jail,  what  does  he  do  but  give  me  twenty  dollars  !  In 
good  greenbacks,  too  !  None  of  your  sham  Confed'rate  trash  ! 
Ef  that  ain't  bein'  a  high-tone  gemmleman,  what  is  ?  He  done 
it  too  in  the  most-er  delicate  manner,  —  ofF-hand,  like  a  born 
prince." 

By  this  time  the  interlocutors  had  entered  the  billiard-room. 
After  them  came  a  colored  man  and  a  negro.  One  of  these 
was  Sam,  the  house-servant,  the  other  Antoine,  the  owner  of 
the  dog.  Immediately  after  them  came  Esha  and  Madame 
Josephine.  They  passed  Ratcliff  without  noticing  him,  and 
went  to  Clara,  and  almost  devoured  her  with  their  kisses. 

No  sooner  had  these  two  moved  away  in  this  terrible  proces- 
sion than  an  oldish  lady,  hanging  coquettishly  on  the  arm  of  a 
man  somewhat  younger  than  herself,  of  a  rather  red  face,  and 
highly  dressed,  entered  the  room,  and,  apparently  too  much  ab- 
sorbed in  each  other  to  notice  Ratcliff,  walked  on  until  the  lady, 
encountering  Clara,  rushed  at  her  hysterically,  and  shrieking, 
"  My  own  precious  child  !  "  fell  into  her  arms  in  the  most  ap- 
proved melodramatic  style.  This  lady  was  Mrs.  Gentry,  who 
had  recently  retired  from  school-keeping  with  "  something  hand- 
some," which  the  Vigilance  Committee  had  been  trying  to  get 
hold  of  for  Confederate  wants,  but  which  she  had  managed  to 
withhold  from  their  grasp,  until  that  "  blessed  Butler  "  coming, 
relieved  her  fears,  and  secured  her  in  her  own.  The  gentle- 
man attending  her  was  Mr.  Ripper,  ex-auctioneer,  who,  in  his 
mellow  days,  finding  that  Jordan  was  a  hard  road  to  travel,  had 
concluded  to  sign  the  temperance  pledge,  reform,  and  take  care 
of  himself.  With  this  view,  what  could  he  do  better  than  find 
some  staid,  respectable  woman,  with  "  a  little  something  of  her 
own,"  with  whom  he  could  join  hands  on  the  downhill  of  life  ? 
As  luck  would  have  it,  he  was  introduced  to  Mrs.  Gentry  that 
very  evening,  and  he  was  now  paying  his  first  devoirs. 


426  PECULIAR. 

After  the  appearance  of  this  couple,  steps  heavy  and  slow 
were  heard  ascending  the  staii-s  into  the  billiard-room  ;  and  the 
next  moment  Mr,  Winslow  appeared,  followed  by  Lawyer 
Semmes.  And,  bringing  up  the  rear  of  the  party,  and  pre- 
senting in  himself  a  fitting  cUmax  to  these  stunning  surprises, 
came  a  large  and  powerful  negro  in  military  rig,  bearing  a 
musket  with  bayonet  fixed,  and  displaying  a  small  United 
States  flag.  This  man  was  Decazes,  an  escaped  slave  belong- 
ing to  RatclifF,  and  for  whom  he  had  offered  a  reward  of  five 
hundred  dollars. 

Ratcliff  had  half-risen  from  his  chair,  holding  on  to  the  arms 
with  both  hands  for  support.  His  countenance,  laced  by  the 
leathern  blows  he  had  received,  his  left  eye  blue  and  swollen, 
every  feature  distorted  with  consternation,  rage,  and  astonish- 
ment, he  presented  such  a  picture  of  baffled  tyranny  as  photog- 
raphy alone  could  do  justice  to.  T\^as  it  delirium,  —  was  it  some 
harrowing  dream,  —  under  which  he  was  suffering  ?  That  flag ! 
"What  did  it  mean  ? 

''  Semmes  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  what  has  happened  ?  Where 
do  these  Yankees  come  from  ?  " 

"  Possible  ?  Have  n't  you  heard  the  news  ?  "  returned  the 
lawyer.  "  Farragut  and  Butler  have  possession  of  New 
Orleans.  What  have  you  been  doing  with  yom*self  the  last 
three  days  ?  " 

"  Butler  ?  "  exclaimed  Ratcliff,  astounded  and  incredulous,  — 
"  Picayune  Butler? — the  contemptible  swell-head,  —  the  petti- 
fogging—" 

Semmes  walked  away,  as  if  choosing  not  to  be  implicated  in 
any  treasonable  talk. 

Suddenly  recognizing  Winslow,  Ratcliff  impotently  shook  his 
fists  and  dai-ted  at  him  an  expression  of  malignant  and  vindic- 
tive hate. 

Could  it  be  ?  New  Orleans  in  the  hands  of  the  Vandals,  — 
the  '•  miserable  miscreants,"  —  the  "  hyenas,"  as  President  Da- 
vis and  Robert  Toombs  were  wont  to  stigmatize  the  whole  peo- 
ple of  the  North  ?  Where  was  the  gi^eat  ram  that  was  to  work 
such  wonders  ?  Where  were  the  Confederate  gunboats  ?  Were 
not  Forts  Jackson  and  St.  Philip  impregnable  ?  Could  not  the 
Chalamette  batteries  sink  any  Yankee  fleet  that  floated  ?     Had 


HOPES  AND   FEARS.  427 

not  the  fire-eaters,  —  the  last-ditch  men,  —  resolved  that  New 
Orleans  should  be  laid  in  ashes  before  the  detested  flag,  em- 
blematic of  Yankee  rule,  should  wave  from  the  public  build- 
ings ?  And  here  was  a  black  rascal  in  uniform,  flaunting  that 
flag  in  the  very  face  of  one  of  the  foremost  of  the  chivalry ! 
Let  the  universe  slide  after  this  !     Let  chaos  return  ! 

The  company  drifted  in  groups  of  two  and  three  through  the 
suite  of  rooms.  Sam  disappeared  suddenly.  The  women  were 
in  the  front  room.  RatcHff,  supposing  that  he  was  unnoticed, 
rose  to  escape.  But  Victor  the  hound,  was  on  hand.  He  had 
been  lying  partly  under  the  bed,  with  his  muzzle  out  and  rest- 
ing on  his  fore  paws,  affecting  to  be  asleep,  but  really  watching 
the  man  whom  his  subtle  instincts  had  told  him  was  the  game 
for  which  he  was  responsible  ;  and  now  the  beast  darted  up 
with  an  imperious  bark,  and  Ratcliff,  furious,  but  helpless,  sank 
back  on  his  seat. 

Colonel  Delancy  Hyde  approached,  with  the  view  of  making 
himself  agreeable. 

"  Squire  Ratcliff,"  said  he,  "  you  seem  to  be  in  a  dam  bad 
way.  Kin  I  do  anything  fur  yer?  Any  niggers  you  want 
kotched.  Squire?  Niggers  is  mighty  onsartin  property  jes 
now.  Squire.  Gen'ral  Butler  swars  he  '11  have  a  black  regi- 
ment all  uniformed  afore  the  Fourth  of  July  comes  round. 
Would  n't  give  much  fer  yer  Red  River  gangs  jes  now. 
Squire !  Reckon  they  '11  be  findin'  thar  way  to  Gen'ral  But- 
ler's head-quarters,  sure." 

Ratcliff  cowered  and  groaned  in  spirit  as  he  thought  of  the 
immense  sums  which,  in  his  confidence  in  the  success  of  the 
Rebellion,  he  had  been  investing  in  slaves.  Unless  he  could 
run  his  gangs  off  to  Texas,  he  would  be  ruined. 

"  Look  at  me.  Squire,"  continued  the  Colonel ;  "  I  'm  Kunnle 
Delancy  Hyde,  —  Virginia  born,  be  Gawd ;  but,  fur  all  that,  I 
might  jest  as  well  been  born  in  hell,  fur  any  gratitude  you 
cust  'ristocrats  would  show  me.  Yes,  you  're  one  on  'em. 
Here  I  've  been  drudgin'  the  last  thirty  years  in  the  nigger- 
ketchin'  business,  and  see  my  reward,  —  a  half-shaved  scalp, 
an'  be  damned  to  yer !  But  my  time  's  comin'.  Now  Kunnle 
Delancy  Hyde  tries  a  new  tack.  Instead  of  ketchin'  niggers, 
he  's  goin'  to  free  'em  ;  and  whar  he  kotched  one  he  '11  free  a 


428  PECULIAR. 

thousand.  Lou'siana  's  bound  to  be  a  free  State.  All  Cotton- 
dom  's  bound  to  be  free.  Uncle  Sam  shall  have  black  regi- 
ments afore  Sumter  soon.  Only  the  freedom  of  every  nigger 
in  the  land  kn  wipe  out  the  wrongs  of  Delancy  Hyde,  —  kn 
avenge  his  half-shaved  scalp ! " 

Here  tlie  appearance  of  Sam,  the  house-servant,  with  a  large 
salver  containing  a  pitcher,  a  sugar-bowl,  a  decanter,  tumblers, 
and  several  bottles,  put  a  stop  to  the  Colonel's  eloquence,  and 
drew  him  away  as  the  loadstone  draws  the  needle. 

Onslow  came  near  to  Ratcliff,  looked  him  in  the  face  con- 
temptuously, and  turned  away  without  acknowledging  the 
acquaintance.  After  him  reappeared  Ripper  and  Mrs.  Gen- 
try, arm-in-arm,  the  lady  with  her  hands  clasped  girlishly,  and 
her  shoulder  pressed  closely  up  against  that  of  the  auctioneer. 
It  was  evident  she  was  going,  going,  if  not  already  gone. 
Ripper  put  up  his  eye-glass,  and,  carelessly  nodding,  remarked, 
"Such  is  life,  Ratcliflf!"  (Ratcliff!  The  beggar  presumed  to 
call  him  Ratcliff!)  The  couple  passed  on,  the  lady  exclaim- 
ing so  that  the  observation  should  not  be  lost  on  the  ears  for 
which  it  was  intended,  —  "I  always  said  he  would  be  come  up 
with  I " 

Semmes  now  happening  to  pass  by,  Ratcliff,  deeply  agitated, 
but  affecting  equanimity,  said :  "  How  is  it,  Semmes  ?  Are 
you  going  to  help  me  out  of  this  miserable  scrape  ? " 

"  Our  relations  must  end  here,  3Ir.  Ratcliff,"  replied  the 
lawyer. 

"So  much  the  better,"  said  Ratcliff;  "it  will  spare  my 
standing  the  swindle  you  call  professional  charges  on  your 
books." 

"  Don't  be  under  a  misapprehension,  my  poor  friend,"  re- 
turned Semmes.  "  I  have  laid  an  attachment  on  your  deposits 
in  the  Lafayette  Bank.     They  will  just  satisfy  my  claim." 

And  taking  a  pinch  of  snuff  the  lawyer  walked  unconcern- 
edly away.  "  O  that  I  had  my  revolver  here  !  "  thought  Rat- 
cliff, with  an  inward  groan. 

But  here  was  Madame  Josephine.  Here  was  at  least  one 
friend  left  to  him.  Of  her  attachment,  under  any  change  of 
fortune,  he  felt  assured.  Her  own  means,  not  insignificant, 
miofht  now  sufl&ce  for   the  rehabilitation  of  his  affaire.     She 


HOPES  AND   FEARS.  429 

drew  near,  her  face  radiant  with  the  satisfaction  she  had  felt  in 
the  recovery  of  Clara.  She  drew  near,  and  Ratcliff  caught 
her  eye,  and  rising  and  putting  out  his  hands,  as  if  for  an 
embrace,  murmured,  in  a  confidential  whisper,  "Josephine, 
dearest,  come  to  me  !  '* 

She  frowned  indignantly,  threw  back  her  arm  with  one 
scornful  and  repelling  sweep,  and  simply  ejaculating,  "No 
more ! "  moved  away  from  him,  and  took  the  proffered  arm  of 
the  trustee  of  her  funds,  the  venerable  Winslow. 

The  party  now  passed  away  from  Ratcliff,  and  out  of  the 
two  rooms ;  most  of  them  going  down-stairs  to  the  carriages 
that  waited  in  the  street  to  bear  them  to  the  St.  Charles  Hotel, 
over  whose  cupola  the  Stars  and  Stripes  were  gloriously  flut- 
tering in  the  starlight. 

Ratcliff  found  himself  alone  with  the  ever-watchful  blood- 
hound. Suddenly  a  whistle  was  heard,  and  Victor  started  up 
and  trotted  down-stairs.  Ratcliff  rose  to  quit  the  apartment. 
All  at  once  the  stalwart  negro,  lately  his  slave,  in  uniform,  and 
bearing  a  musket,  with  the  old  flag,  stood  before  him. 

"  Follow  me,"  said  the  man,  with  the  dignity  of  a  true  sol- 
dier. 

«  Where  to  ?  " 

"  To  the  lock-up,  to  wait  General  Butler's  orders." 

On  a  pallet  of  straw  that  night  Ratcliff  had  an  opportunity 
of  revolving  in  solitude  the  events  of  the  day.  In  the  miscar- 
riage of  his  schemes,  in  the  downfall  of  his  hopes,  and  in  the 
humbling  of  his  pride,  he  experienced  a  hell  worse  than  the 
imagination  of  the  theologian  ever  conceived.  What  pangs 
can  equal  those  of  the  merciless  tyrant  when  he  tumbles  into 
the  place  of  his  victims  and  has  to  endure,  in  unstinted  meas- 
ure, the  stripes  and  indignities  he  has  been  wont  to  inflict  so 
unsparingly  on  others ! 


430  PECULIAR. 

CHAPTER    XLII. 

HOW  IT   WAS  DONE. 

"  From  Thee  is  all  that  soothes  the  life  of  man, 
His  high  endeavor  and  his  glad  success, 
His  strength  to  suflFer  and  his  will  to  serve  : 
But  0,  thou  bounteous  Giver  of  all  good, 
Thou  art  of  all  thy  gifts  thyself  the  crown  ! 
Give  what  thou  canst,  without  thee  we  are  poor, 
And  with  thee  rich,  take  what  thou  wilt  away  !  "  — Coivper. 

ALL  the  efforts  of  Peculiar  to  induce  the  bloodhound, 
Victor,  to  take  the  scent  of  either  of  the  gloves,  had 
proved  unavailing.  At  every  trial  Victor  persisted  in  going 
straight  to  the  jail  where  his  master,  Antoine,  was  confined. 
Peek  began  to  despair  of  discovering  any  trace  of  the  ab- 
ducted maiden. 

Were  dumb  animals  ever  guided  by  spirit  influence  ?  There 
were  many  curious  facts  showing  that  birds  were  sometimes 
used  to  convey  impressions,  apparently  from  higher  intelligen- 
ces. At  sea,  not  long  ago,  a  bird  had  flown  repeatedly  in  the 
helmsman's  face,  till  the  latter  was  induced  to  change  his  course. 
The  consequence  was,  his  encounter  with  a  ship's  crew  in  a 
boat,  who  must  have  perished  that  night  in  the  storm,  had  they 
not  been  picked  up.  There  were  also  instances  in  which  dogs 
would  seem  to  have  been  the  mere  instruments  of  a  super 
human  and  supercanine  sagacity.  But  Victor  plainly  was  not 
thus  impressible.  Hjs  instincts  led  him  to  his  master,  but  be- 
yond that  point  they  would  not  or  could  not  be  made  to  exert 
themselves. 

Had  not  Peek's  faith  in  the  triumph  of  the  right  been  large, 
he  would  have  despaired  of  any  help  from  the  coming  of  the 
United  States  forces.  For  weeks  the  newspapers  had  teemed 
with  paragraphs,  some  scientific  and  some  rhetorical,  showing 
that  New  Orleans  must  not  and  could  not  be  taken.  They  all 
overflowed  with  bitterness  towai'd  the  always  "  cowardly  and 
base-born "  Yankees.     The  Mayor  of  the   city  wrote,  in  the 


HOW  IT  WAS  DONE.  431 

true  magniloquent  and  grandiose  style  affected  by  the  Rebel 
leaders :  "  As  for  hoisting  any  flag  not  of  our  own  adoption, 
the  man  lives  not  in  our  midst  whose  hand  and  heart  tvould  not 
he  paralyzed  at  the  mere  thought  of  such  an  act !  " 

A  well-known  physician,  who  had  simply  expressed  the  opin- 
ion that  possibly  the  city  might  have  to  surrender,  had  been 
waited  on  by  a  Vigilance  Committee  and  warned.  Taking  the 
hint,  the  man  of  rhubarb  fortliwith  handed  over  a  contribution 
of  five  hundred  dollars,  in  expiation  of  his  offence. 

All  at  once  the  confident  heart  of  Rebeldom  was  stunned  by 
the  news  that  two  of  the  Yankee  steamers  had  passed  Forts 
Jackson  and  St.  Philip.     The  great  ram  had  been  powerless  to 

prevent  it.     Then   followed  the  announcement  that  seven, 

then  thii-teen,  — then  twenty,  — then  the  whole  of  Farragut's 
fleet,  excepting  the  Varuna,  were  coming.  Yes,  the  Hartford 
and  the  Brooklyn  and  the  Mississippi  and  the  Pensacola  and 
the  Richmond,  and  the  Lord  knew  how  many  more,  were  on 
their  way  up  the  great  river.  They  would  soon  be  at  Eng- 
lish Bend ;  nay,  they  would  soon  be  at  the  Levee,  and  have  the 
haughty  city  entirely  at  their  mercy! 

No  sooner  was  the  terrible  news  confirmed  than  the  Rebel 
authorities  ordered  the  destruction  of  all  the  cotton-bales  stored 
on  the  Levee.  The  rage,  the  bitterness,  the  anguish  of  the  pro- 
slavery  chiefs  was  indescribable.  Several  attempts  were  made 
to  fire  the  city,  and  they  would  probably  have  succeeded,  but 
for  a  timely  faU  of  rain.  On  the  landing  of  the  United  States 
forces,  the  frenzy  of  the  Secessionists  passed  all  bounds ;  and 
one  poor  fellow,  a  physician,  was  hung  by  them  for  simply  tell- 
ing a  United  States  officer  where  to  find  the  British  Consulate. 
But  if  some  hearts  were  sick  and  crushed  at  the  spectacle, 
there  were  many  thousands  in  that  great  metropolis  to  whom 
the  sight  of  the  old  flag  carried  a  joy  and  exultation  transcend- 
ing the  power  of  words  to  express ;  and  one  of  these  hearts 
beat  under  the  black  skin  of  Peek.  Followed  by  Victor,  he 
ran  to  the  Levee  where  United  States  troops  were  landing,  and 
there  —  O  joy  unspeakable  !  —  standing  on  the  upper  deck  of 
one  of  the  smaller  steamers,  and  almost  one  of  the  first  persons 
he  saw,  was  Mr.  Vance. 

Peek  shouted  his  name,  and  Vance,  leaping  on  shore,  threw 


432  PEC  L  LIAR. 

liis  aims  impulsively  round  the  brawny  negi'o,  and  pressed  Inm 
to  his  breast.  Brief  the  time  lor  explanations.  In  a  few 
clear  words,  Peek  made  Vance  comprehend  the  precise  state  of 
affairs,  and  in  five  minutes  the  latter,  at  the  head  of  a  couple  of 
hundred  soldiers,  and  with  Peek  walking  at  his  side,  was  on 
his  way  to  the  jail.  Victor,  the  bloodhound,  evidently  under- 
stood it  all.  He  saw,  at  length,  that  he  was  going  to  carry  his 
point. 

Ai-rived  at  the  jail,  a  large,  square,  whitewashed  building, 
with  barred  windows,  they  encountered  at  the  outer  door  three 
men  smoking  cigars.  The  foremost  of  them,  a  stem-looking, 
middle-aged  man,  with  fierce,  red  whiskers,  and  who  was  in  his 
shirt-sleeves,  came  forward,  evidently  boiling  over  with  a  wrath 
he  was  vainly  tryiag  to  conceal,  and  asked  what  w^is  wanted. 

"There  is  a  black  man,  Antoine  Lafour,  confined  here. 
Produce  him  at  once." 

"  But,  sir,"  said  the  deputy,  "  this  is  altogether  against  civil- 
ized usage.     This  is  a  place  for  —  " 

"I  can't  stop  to  parley  with  you.  Produce  the  man  in- 
stantly." 

"  I  shall  do  no  such  thmg." 

Vance  turned  to  an  orderly,  and  said,  "Arrest  this  man." 
At  once  the  deputy  was  seized  on  either  side  by  two  soldiers. 
"  Now,  sir,"  said  Vance,  cocking  his  pistol  and  taking  out  his 
watch,  "  Produce  Antoine  Lafour  in  five  minutes,  or  I  will 
shoot  you  dead." 

The  bloodhound,  who  had  been  scenting  with  curious  nose 
the  man's  person,  now  seconded  the  menace  by  a  savage  growl, 
which  seemed  to  have  more  effect  even  than  the  pistol,  for  the 
deputy,  turning  to  one  of  the  men  in  attendance,  said  sulkily, 
"  Bring  out  the  nigger,  and  be  quick  about  it." 

In  thi'ee  minutes  Antoine  appeared,  and  the  dog  leaped  bodily 
into  his  arms,  the  negro  talking  to  him  much  as  he  would  to 
a  human  being.  "  I  knowed  you  'd  do  it,  ole  feller !  Thar ! 
Down!  Down,  I  say,  ole  Vic!  It  takes  you,  —  don't  it? 
Down !  Behave  yourself  afore  folk.  Why,  Peek,  is  this 
you?" 

"  Yes,  Antoine,  and  this  is  Mr.  Vance,  and  here  's  the  old 
flag,  and  you  're  no  longer  a  slave." 


HOW   IT    WAS   DONE.  43o 

''  What  ?  I  no  longer  a  —  No  !  Say  them  words  agin, 
Peek  !  Free  ?  Owner  of  my  own  flesh  an'  blood  ?  Dis  arm 
mine  ?  Dis  head  mine  ?  Bress  de  Lord,  Peek  !  Bress  him 
for  all  his  mercies  !     Amen  !     Hallelujah  ! " 

The  released  negro  could  not  forego  a  few  wild  antics  ex- 
pressive of  his  rapture.  Peek  checked  liim,  and  bade  huD 
remember  the  company  he  was  in  ;  and  Antome  bowed  to 
Vance  and  said  :  "  'Scuze  me,  Kunnle.  I  don't  perfess  to  be 
sich  a  high-tone  gemmleman  as  Peek  here,  but  — " 

"  Stop !"  cried  Peek ;  "  where  did  you  get  those  last  words  ?  " 

"  AVhat  \vords  ?  "  asked  Antome,  showing  the  whites  of  his 
eyes  with  an  expression  of  concern  at  Peek's  suddenly  serious 
manner. 

"  Those  words,  — '  high-tone  gemmleman.'  Whom  did  you 
ever  hear  use  them  ?  " 

"  Yah,  yah !  Wall,  Peek,  those  words  I  got  from  Kunnle 
Delancy  Hyde." 

"  Where,  —  where  and  when  did  you  get  them  ?  " 

"  Bress  yer.  Peek,  jes  now,  —  not  two  minutes  ago,  —  dar  in 
the  gallery  whar  the  Kunnle's  walkin'  up  and  down." 

Peek  smiled  significantly  at  Vance,  and  the  latter,  approach- 
ing the  deputy  who  had  not  yet  been  released  from  custody, 
remarked  :  "  You  have  a  man  named  Hyde  confined  there." 

'•  Yes,  Delancy  Hyde.  The  scoundrel  stole  the  funds  given 
to  him  to  pay  recruiting  expenses." 

"  For  which  I  desire  to  thank  him.     Bring  him  out." 

"  But,  sir,  you  would  n't  — " 

"  Five  minutes,  Mr.  Deputy,  I  give  you,  a  second  time,  in 
which  to  obey  my  orders.  K  Mr.  Delancy  Hyde  is  n't  forth- 
coming before  this  second-hand  goes  round  five  times,  one  of 
youi'  friends  here  shall  have  the  opportunity  of  succeeding  you 
in  office,  and  you  shall  be  deposited  where  the  wicked  cease 
from  troubling." 

The  deputy  was  far  from  being  agreeably  struck  at  the  pros- 
pect of  quitting  the  company  of  the  wicked.  But  for  them  his 
vocation  would  be  wanting.  And  so  he  nodded  to  a  subordi- 
nate, and  in  three  minutes  out  stalked  the  astonishing  figure 
of  Colonel  Delancy  Hyde,  wearing  a  dirty  woollen  Scotch  cap, 
and  attired  in  the  coarsest  costume  of  the  jail. 

19  BB 


434  PECULIAR. 

Ignorant  of  the  gi-eat  event  of  the  day,  not  pereeivmg  the 
old  flag,  and  supposing  tliat  lie  liad  been  called  out  to  be  shot, 
Hyde  walked  up  to  Vance,  and  said  :  "  Kunnle,  you  look  like 
a  high-tone  gemmleman,  and  afore  I  'm  shot  I  want  ter  make  a 
confidential  request." 

"  Well,  sir,  what  is  it  ?  "  said  Vance,  shading  his  face  with 
his  cap  so  as  not  to  be  recognized.  "  Speak  quick.  I  can't 
spare  you  three  minutes." 

"  "Wall,  Kunnle,  it 's  jes  this :  I  've  a  sister,  yer  see,  in  Ala- 
bamy,  jest  out  of  Montgomery ;  her  name  's  Dorothy  Rusk. 
She  's  a  widder  with  six  childern ;  one  on  'em  an  idiot,  one  a 
cripple,  and  the  eldest  gal  in  a  consumption.  Dorothy  has  had 
a  cruel  hard  time  on  it,  as  you  may  reckon,  an'  I  've  oUerz 
paid  her  rent  and  a  leetle  over  till  this  cussed  war  broke  out, 
since  when  I  Ve  been  so  hard  up  I  've  had  ter  scratch  gravel 
thunderin'  lively  to  git  my  own  grub.  Them  Confed'rate  rags 
that  I  'propriated,  I  meant  to  send  to  Dorothy  ;  but  the  fogies, 
they  war  too  quick  for  me.  Wall,  ter  come  ter  the  pint ;  I 
want  you  ter  write  a  letter  ter  Dorothy,  jes  tellin'  her  that  the 
reason  why  Delancy  can't  remit  is  that  Delancy  has  been  shot ; 
and  tellin'  her  he  sent  his  love  and  all  that  —  whar  you  can't 
come  it  too  strong,  Kunnle,  for  yer  see  Dorothy  an'  I,  we  was 
'bout  the  same  age,  and  used  ter  make  mud-pies  together,  and 
sail  our  boats  together  down  thar  in  the  old  duck-pond,  when 
we  was  childern  ;  an'  so  yer  see  — " 

Vance  looked  into  his  face.  Yes,  the  battered  old  reprobate 
was  trying  to  gulp  down  his  agitation,  and  there  were  tears 
rolling  down  his  cheeks.     Vance  was  touched. 

"  Hyde,  don't  you  know  me  ?  "  he  said. 

«  What !     Mr.  Vance  ?     1NL-.  Vance  ! " 

"  Nobody  else,  Hyde.  He  comes  here  a  United  States  offi- 
cer, you  see.  New  Orleans  has  surrendered  to  Uncle  Sam. 
Look  at  that  flag.  Instead  of  being  shot,  you  are  set  at  liberty. 
Here  's  your  old  friend.  Peek." 

The  knees  of  Colonel  Delancy  Hyde  smote  each  other,  and 
his  florid  face  grew  pale.  Flesh  and  blood  he  could  encounter 
well  as  any  man,  but  a  ghost  was  a  piling  on  of  something  he 
hadn't  bai'gained  for.  Yet  there  palpably  before  him  stood 
Peek,  the  identical  Peek  he  believed  to  have  been  drowned  in 
the  Mississippi  some  fifteen  years  back. 


HOW   IT   WAS   DONE.  435 

"  "Wall,  how  In  creation  — " 

*'  It 's  all  right,  Hyde,"  interrupted  Vance.  "  And  now  if 
you  want  that  sister  of  yours  provided  for,  you  just  keep  as 
close  to  my  shadow  as  you  can." 

Hyde  was  too  confounded  and  stupefied  to  make  any  reply. 
These  revelations  coming  upon  liim  hke  successive  shocks  from 
a  galvanic-battery,  were  too  much  for  his  equanimity.  Awe- 
struck and  stunned,  he  stared  stupidly,  first  at  Vance,  then  at 
the  flag,  and  finally  at  Peek. 

The  roll  of  the  drum,  accompanied  by  Vance's  orders  to  the 
soldiers,  roused  him,  and  then  attaching  himself  to  Peek,  he 
marched  on  with  the  rest,  Peek  beguiling  the  way  with  much 
useful  and  enlightening  information. 

They  had  not  marched  farther  than  the  next  carriage-stand 
when  Vance,  leaving  Captain  Onslow  in  command,  with  orders 
to  bivouac  in  Canal  Street,  slipped  out  of  the  ranks,  and  beck- 
oning to  Peek  and  his  companions,  they  all,  including  Antoine 
and  Hyde,  entered  a  vehicle  which  drove  off  with  the  faithful 
Victor  running  at  its  side. 

Behold  them  now  in  Vance's  old  room  at  the  St.  Charles. 
The  immediate  matter  of  concern  was,  how  to  find  Clara? 
How  was  the  search  to  be  commenced? 

Antoine,  a  bright,  well-formed  negro  of  cheerful  aspect,  after 
scratching  his  wool  thoughtfully  for  a  moment,  said  :  "  Peek, 
you  jes  gib  me  them  two  glubs  you  say  you  've  got." 

Antoine  then  took  the  gloves,  and,  throwing  them  on  the 
floor,  called  Victor's  attention  to  them,  and  said :  "  Now,  Vic, 
I  want  yer  to  show  these  gemmen  your  broughten  up.  Ob 
dem  two  glubs,  you  jes  bring  me  de  one  dat  you  tink  you  kn 
fine  de  owner  ob  right  off  straight,  wddout  any  mistake.  Now, 
be  car'ful." 

Victor  snuffed  at  the  large  glove,  and  instantly  kicked  it 
aside  with  contempt.  Then,  after  a  thoughtful  scenting  of  the 
small  glove,  he  took  it  up  in  his  mouth  and  cai-ried  it  to 
Antoine.  , 

"  Berry  well,"  said  Antoine.  "  Dat 's  your  choice,  is  it  ?  Now 
tell  me,  Vic,  hab  yer  had  yer  dinner  ? " 

The  dog  barked  aflirmatively. 

"  Ben-y   well.     Now   take   a   good  drink."     And,  filling  a 


436  PECULIAR. 

washbowl  with  water,  Antoine  gave  it  to  the  dog,  who  lapped 
from  it  greedily. 

"  Hab  yer  had  enough  ?  "  asked  Aiitoine. 

Victor  uttered  an  affirmative  bark. 

"  Wall,  now,"  said  Antoine,  "  you  jes  take  dis  ere  glub,  an' 
don't  yer  come  back  till  you  fine  out  su'thin'  'bout  de  owner  ob 
it.     Understan'  ?  " 

The  docj  a^ain  barked  assent,  and  Antoine,  escortiuG:  him 
down-stairs  and  out-of-doors,  gave  him  the  glove.  Victor  at 
once  seized  it  between  his  teeth  and  trotted  off  at  "  double- 
quick,"  up  St.  Charles  Street. 

Dui'ing  the  interval  of  waiting  for  Victor's  return,  "  Tell  me 
now.  Peek,"  said  Vance,  "  of  your  own  affairs.  Have  you 
been  able  to  get  any  clew  from  Amos  Slink  to  guide  you  in 
your  search  for  your  wife  ?  " 

"  All  that  he  could  do,"  replied  Peek,  "  was  merely  to  con- 
finn  what  I  already  suspected  as  to  Charlton's  agency  in 
luring  her  back  into  the  clutch  of  Slavery." 

'•I  must  make  the  acquaintance  of  that  Charlton,"  said 
Vance.  "  And  by  the  way,  Hyde,  you  must  know  something 
of  the  man." 

"  I  know  more  nor  I  wish  I  did,"  replied  Hyde.  "  I  could 
scar'  up  some  old  letters  of  his'n,  I'm  thinkin',  ef  I  was  ter 
sarch  in  an  old  trunk  in  the  house  of  the  TTidder  Rusk  (her 
as  is  my  sister)  in  Montgomery." 

"Those  letters  we  must  have,  Hyde,"  said  Vance.  "You 
must  lay  your  plans  to  get  them.  'T  would  be  hardly  safe  for 
you  to  trust  yourself  among  the  Rebels.  They  've  an  awkward 
fashion  of  hanging  up  without  ceremony  all  who  profane  the 
sanctity  of  Confederate  scrip.  But  you  might  send  for  the 
letters." 

"  That 's  a  fak,  Kunnle  Vance.  I  'm  gittin'  over  my  taste 
for  low  society.  I  want  notliin '  more  ter  do  with  the  Rebels. 
But  I  've  a  nephew  at  Montgomery.  — Delancy  Hyde  Rusk, 
— who  can  smuggle  them  lettei:3  through  the  Rebel  lines  easy 
as  a  snake  kn  cahi'ry  a  toad  through  a  stump-fence.  He  '11  go 
his  death  for  his  Uncle  Delancy.  He  's  got  the  raal  Hyde 
blood  in  him,  —  he  has,  —  an'  no  mistake." 

"  Can  he  read  and  write  ?  " 


HOW  IT  WAS  DONE.  437 

"  I  'm  proud  to  say  he  kin,  Kunnle.  I  towt  his  mother,  and 
she  towt  him  and  the  rest  of  the  childern." 

"  Well,  Hyde,  ga  into  the  next  room  and  write  a  letter  to 
your  nephew,  telling  him  to  start  at  once  for  New  York  city, 
and  report  himself  to  Mr.  William  C.  Vance,  Astor  House. 
I  '11  give  you  a  couple  of  hundi-ed  dollars  to  enclose  for  him  to 
pay  his  expenses,  and  a  couple  of  hundi'ed  more  for  your 
sister." 

Four  hundred  dollars  !  What  an  epoch  would  it  be  in  their 
domestic  history,  when  that  stupendous  sum  should  fall  into 
the  hands  of  Mi's.  Rusk !  Colonel  Hyde  moved  wdth  alacrity 
to  comply  Avith  Vance's  bidding. 

]Mi\  Winslow  and  Captain  Onslow  now  entered,  followed  by 
Colonel  Blake,  between  whom  and  Vance  .a  friendship  had 
sprung  up  during  the  voyage  from  New  York.  Suddenly 
Peek,  who  had  been  looking  from  the  window,  exclaimed : 
"  There  goes  the  man  who  could  tell  us,  if  he  would,  what  we 
want." 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  cried  Vance. 

"  Ratcliff's  lawyer,  Semmes.     See  him  crossing  the  street!" 

"  Captain  Onslow,"  said  Vance,  "  arrest  the  man  at  once." 

Five  minutes  did  not  elapse  before  Semmes,  bland  and  suave, 
and  accompanied  by  Peek  and  Onslow,  entered  the  room. 

"  Ha !  my  dear  friend  Winslow ! "  cried  the  old  lawyer,  put- 
ting out  his  hand,  "  I  'm  delighted  to  see  you.  Make  me  ac- 
quainted with  your  friends." 

Winslow  introduced  liim  to  all,  not  omitting  Peek,  to  whom 
Semmes  bowed  graciously,  as  if  they  had  never  met  before, 
and  as  if  the  negro  were  the  whitest  of  Anglo-Saxons. 

"  Sit  down,  Mr.  Semmes,"  said  Vance  ;  "  I  have  a  few  ques- 
tions to  put  to  you.  Please  answer  them  categorically.  Are 
you  acquainted  with  a  young  lady,  claimed  by  Mr.  Carberry 
RatcliflL  as  a  slave,  educated  by  him  at  Mrs.  Gentry's  school, 
and  recently  abducted  by  pai'ties  unkno^vn  from  his  house  near 
Lafayette  Square  ?  " 

"  I  do  know  such  a  young  person,"  replied  Semmes  ;  "  I  had 
her  in  my  charge  after  Mr.  RatclilSf's  compulsory  departure 
from  the  city." 

"  Well.     And  do  you  know  wliere  she  now  is  ?  " 


438  PECULIAR. 

*'  I  certainly  do  not." 

"  Have  you  seen  her  since  she  left  Ratcliff 's  house  ?  " 

Happily  for  Semraes,  before  he  could  perjure  himself  irre- 
trievably, there  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  Antoine  entered, 
followed  by  the  bloodhound,  bearing  something  tied  in  a  white 
handkerchief,  in  his  montli. 

A  general  sensation  and  u})rising  !  For  all  except  the  law- 
yer had  been  made  acquainted  with  the  nature  of  the  dog's 
search.  Semmes  glanced  at  the  bloodhound,  —  then  at  the 
negroes,  —  and  then  at  the  other  persons  present,  with  their 
looks  of  absorbed  attention.  Surely,  there  was  a  denouement 
expected ;  and  might  it  not  be  fatal  to  him,  if  he  left  it  to  be 
supposed  that  he  was  colluding  with  Ratcliff  in  what  would  be 
stigmatized  as  rascality  by  low,  cowardly,  base-born  Yankees, 
though,  after  all,  it  was  only  the  act  of  a  slave-owner  enforcing 
his  legal  rights  in  a  legitimate  way  ? 

Darting  forward,  just  as  Vance  received  from  Antoine  the 
little  bundle  the  dog  had  been  caiTving,  the  lawyer  exclaimed : 
"  Colonel  Vance,  I  do  not  know,  but  I  can  conjecture  where 
the  girl  is.     Seek  her  at  Number  21  Camelia  Place." 

Vance  paused,  and  looked  the  old  lawyer  straight  in  the  eyes 
till  the  latter  withdrew  his  glance,  and  resorted  to  his  snuff-box 
to  cover  his  discomfiture.  Deep  as  he  was,  he  saw  that  he  had 
been  fathomed.  But  Vance  bowed  politely,  and  said :  "'  We 
will  see,  sir,  if  your  information  agrees  with  that  of  the  dog." 

He  untied  the  handkerchief,  took  out  the  paper-weight,  and 
underneath  it  found  Clara's  note,  which  he  opened  and  read. 
Then  turning  to  the  lawyer,  he  said  :  "  I  congratulate  you,  Mr. 
Semmes.     You  were  right  in  your  conjecture.'' 

None  but  Semmes  and  Peek  noticed  the  slightly  sarcastic 
stress  which  Vance  put  on  this  last  word  from  his  lips. 

Vance  now  knelt  on  one  knee,  and  resting  on  the  other  the 
fore-legs  of  the  bloodhound,  patted  his  head  and  praised  him  in 
a  manner  which  Victor,  by  his  low,  gratified  whine,  seemed 
fully  to  comprehend  and  appreciate. 

Peek,  who  had  been  restless  ever  since  the  words  "21  Ca- 
melia Place  "  had  fallen  on  his  ears,  here  said :  "  Lend  me  your 
revolver,  Mr.  Vance,  and  don't  leave  till  I  come  back.  I  prom- 
ise not  to  rob  you  of  youi'  shai-e  in  this  work." 

% 


HOW  IT   WAS  DONE.  439 

"  I  will  trust  you  with  the  preliminary  reconnoissance,  Peek," 
said  Vance,  giving  up  the  weapon.     "  Be  quick  about  it." 

Peek  beckoned  to  Antoine,  and  the  two  went  out,  followed  by 
the  bloodhound.  • 

Mr.  Semines,  now  realizing  that  by  some  display  of  zeal, 
even  if  it  were  superserviceable,  he  might  get  rid  of  the  ill 
odor  which  would  follow  from  lending  himself  to  RatclifF's 
schemes,  approached  Vance  and  said:  "Colonel,  it  was  only 
quite  recently  that  I  heard  of  the  suspicions  that  were  enter- 
tained of  foul  play  in  the  case  of  that  little  girl  claimed  by 
Ratcliff  as  a  slave.  Immediately  1  looked  into  the  notary's 
record,  and  I  there  found  that  the  slave-child  is  set  down  as  a 
quadi-oon  ;  a  misstatement  which  clearly  invalidates  tlie  title.  I 
have  also  discovered  a  letter,  written  in  French,  and  published 
in  L'Abeille,  in  which  some  important  facts  relative  to  the  loss 
of  the  Pontiac  are  given.  The  wi-iter.  Monsieur  Laboulie,  is 
now  in  the  city.  Finally,  I  have  to  inform  you  that  Mr.  Ripper, 
the  auctioneer  who  sold  the  child,  is  now  in  this  house.  I 
would  suggest  that  both  he  and  the  Mrs.  Gentry,  who  brought 
her  up,  should  be  secured  this  very  evening,  as  witnesses." 

"  I  Uke  your  suggestion,  Mr.  Semmes,"  said  Vance,  in  a  tone 
which  quite  reassured  the  lawyer;  "go  on  and  make  all  the 
investigations  in  youi-  power  bearing  on  this  case.  Get  the 
proper  affidavit  from  Monsieur  Laboulie.  Secui-e  the  parties 
you  recommend  as  witnesses.      I  employ  you  professionally." 

In  his  rapid  and  penetrating  judgments  of  men,  Vance  rarely 
went  astray ;  and  when  Semmes,  who  was  thinking  of  a  Uttle 
private  business  of  liis  own  with  the  President  of  the  Lafayette 
Bank,  remarked,  "  If  you  can  dismiss  me  now,  Colonel,  I  will 
meet  you  an  hour  hence  at  any  place  you  name,"  Vance  knew 
the  old  lawyer  would  keep  his  promise,  and  replied  :  "  Certainly, 
Mr.  Semmes.     You  will  find  me  at  21  Camelia  Place." 

Peek  and  Antoine,  taking  a  carnage,  drove  at  full  speed  to 
the  house  designated.  Here  they  found  to  their  surprise  in 
the  mulatto  Sam,  a  member  of  a  secret  society  of  men  of  Afri- 
can descent,  bound  together  by  faith  in  the  speedy  advent  of 
the  United  States  forces,  and  by  the  resolve  to  demand  eman- 
cipation. Peek  at  once  satisfied  himself  that  Clara  was  in  no 
immediate  danger.     He   found  that  Sam  had  withdrawn  the 


440  PECULIAR. 

bullets  from  Ratcliff's  revolver,  and  was  himself  well  armed, 
having  determined  to  shoot  do>vn  Ratcliff,  if  necessary,  in  lib- 
erating Clara.  In  pursuance  of  his  plan  he  had  lured  the 
negrowoman,  Agnes,  up-stairs,  under  flie  pretence  already 
mentioned.  Here  he  had  gagged,  bound,  and  confined  her 
securely.  Hardly  had  he  finished  this  job,  when,  looking  out 
of  the  window,  he  had  seen  Peek  and  Antoine  get  out  of  a 
carriage  and  reconnoitre  the  house.  Instantly  he  had  nm  down- 
stairs, opened  the  front  door,  and  made  himself  kno^^^^. 

It  was  arranged  that  Antoine  and  Sam,  well  armed,  an<l  sup- 
ported by  the  bloodhound,  should  remain  and  look  after  Rat- 
cliff,  not  precipitating  action,  however,  and  not  communicating 
with  Clai-a,  whose  relief  Peek  had  generously  resolved  should 
first  come  from  the  hands  of  Vance. 

Then  jumping  into  the  carriage,  Peek  drove  to  Lafay- 
ette Square,  and  taking  in  Madame  Josephine  and  Esha,  re- 
turaed  to  the  St.  Charles  Hotel.  Here  he  told  Vance  all  he 
had  done,  and  introduced  the  two  women,  —  Vance  greeting 
Esha  with  much  emotion,  as  he  recognized  in  her  that  attend- 
ant at  his  wife's  death-bed  for  whom  he  had  often  sought. 

Four  carnages  were  now  di'awn  up  on  Gravier  Street.  Into 
one  stepped  Winslow,  Hyde,  and  Vance ;  into  another  Semmes, 
Blake,  Onslow,  and  Blake's  trusty  servant,  Sergeant  Decazes, 
the  escaped  slave.  Into  the  third  carriage  stepped  Madame 
Josephine,  Esha,  and  Peek ;  and  into  the  fourth,  Mrs.  Gentry 
and  Ml'.  Ripper. 

This  last  vehicle  must  be  regarded  as  the  centre  of  interest, 
for  over  it  the  Loves  and  Graces  languishingly  hovered. 

In  introducing  Ripper  to  Mrs.  Gentry.  Semmes  had  re- 
marked, in  an  aside  to  the  former :  '•  A  retired  schoolraa'am  : 
some  money  there  I  "  Here  was  a  shaft  that  went  straight  to 
the  auctioneer's  heart.  In  three  minutes  he  drew  from  the 
lady  the  fact  that,  ten  days  before,  she  had  received  a  visit  from 
a  Vigilance  Committee,  who  had  warned  her,  if  she  did  not 
pay  over  to  them  five  thousand  dollars  within  a  week,  her 
house  would  be  confiscated,  sold,  and  the  proceeds  paid  over  to 
the  Confederate  treasury.  ''  Five  thousand  dollars  mdeed !  " 
said  the  lady,  in  relating  the  interview ;  "  a  whole  year's  in- 
come !    O,  have  n't  they  been  nicely  come  up  with ! " 

The  Confederate  liifirhwaymen  had  done  what  Satan  recom- 


HOW  IT   WAS  DONE.  441 

mended  the  Lord  to  do  in  the  case  of  Job :  they  had  tried  Mrs. 
Gentry  in  her  substance,  and  she  had  not  stood  the  test.  It 
had  A\Toiight  a  veiy  sudden  and  radical  change  in  her  poHtical 
notions.  Even  slavery  was  no  longer  the  august  and  unap- 
proachable thing  which  she  had  hitherto  imagined;  and  she 
threw  out  a  sentiment  which  savored  so  much  of  the  abolition 
heresy,  that  Ripper,  thinking  to  advance  himself  in  her  good 
opinion,  avowed  Jiimself  boldly  an  emancipationist,  and  declared 
that  slavery  was  "  played  out."  These  words,  strange  to  say, 
did  not  make  him  less  charming  in  Mrs.  Gentry's  eyes. 

The  drive  in  the  carriage  soon  offered  an  opportunity  for 
tenderer  topics,  and  before  they  reached  Camelia  Street,  the 
enterprising  auctioneer  had  declared  that  he  really  believed  he 
had  at  last,  after  a  life-long  search,  found  his  "  affinity."  And 
from  that  he  ventured  to  glide  an  ai-rn  round  the  lady's  waist, 
—  a  familiarity  at  which  her  indignation  was  so  feebly  simu- 
lated, that  it  only  added  new  fuel  to  hope. 

But  Camelia  Place  was  now  reached,  and  the  carriages  stop- 
ped. The  whole  party  were  noiselessly  introduced  into  the 
house.  Vance  darted  up  to  the  room  where  Clara's  note  had 
instinicted  him  he  could  find  her.  Seeing  the  key  on  the  out- 
side, he  turned  it,  opened  the  door,  and  presented  himself  to 
Clara  in  the  manner  already  related.  The  unsuspecting  Rat- 
cliff  soon  followed,  and  then  followed  the  scenes  upon  which 
the  curtain  has  already  been  raised. 

As  Vance  left  the  house,  with  Clara  on  his  arm,  several  of 
Ratcliff's  slaves  gathered  round  them.  To  all  these  Vance 
promised  immediate  freedom  and  help.  An  old  black  hostler, 
named  Juba,  or  Jube,  who  was  also  a  theologian  and  a  strenu- 
ous preacher,  was  spokesman  for  the  freedmen.  He  proposed 
"  tree  chares  for  Massa  Vance."    They  were  given  with  a  will. 

"  An'  now,  Massa  Vance,"  said  the  Reverend  Jube,  "  may 
de  Lord  bress  yer  fur  comin'  down  har  from  de  Norf  ter  free 
an'  help  we.  De  Lord  bress  yer  an'  de  young  Missis  likewise. 
An'  when  yer  labors  am  all  ended,  an'  yer  'v  chewed  all  de 
hard  bones,  an*  swoUerd  de  bitter  pill,  may  yer  go  ober  Jordan 
wid  a  tight  hold  on  de  Lord,  an'  not  leeb  go  till  yer  git  clar 
inter  de  city  ob  Zion."* 

♦  Actual  words  of  a  negro  preacher,  taken  down  on  the  spot  by  a  hearer. 
19* 


442  PECULIAR. 


CHAPTER    XLIII. 

MAKING  THE   BEST   OF  IT. 

"  0,  blest  with  temper  whose  unclouded  ray 
Can  make  to-morrow  cheerful  as  to-day  !  "  —  Pope. 

A  SOUND  of  the  prompter's  whistle,  sharp  and  stridu- 
lous. 

The  scenes  move,  —  they  dispai't.  The  Crescent  City,  with 
its  squares  and  gardens  filled  with  verdure,  its  stately  steeples, 
and  its  streets  Ipng  lower  than  the  river,  and  protected  only 
by  the  great  Levee  from  being  converted  into  a  bed  for  fishes, 
—  the  Crescent  City,  under  the  swift  touch  of  our  fairy 
scene-shifters,  divides,  slides,  and  disappears. 

A  new  scene  simultaneously  takes  its  place.  It  represents  a 
street  in  New  York.  Not  one  of  the  clean,  broad,  well-kept 
avenues,  lined  on  either  side  with  mansions,  beautiful  and  spa- 
cious. It  is  a  trans-Bowery  Street,  narrow  and  noisome,  dirty 
and  dismal.  There  the  market-man  stops  his  cart  and  haggles 
for  the  price  of  a  cabbage  with  the  care-worn  housewife,  who 
has  a  baby  in  her  arms  and  a  two-yeai'-old  child  tugging  at 
hfir  gown.  Poor  woman !  She  tries  to  cover  her  bosom  as 
the  wayfarer,  redolent  of  bad  tobacco,  passes  by  with  a  grin  at 
her  shyness.  There  the  milkman  rouses  you  at  daylight  by 
his  fiendish  yell,  a  nuisance  not  yet  abated  in  the  more  barba- 
rous parts  of  the  city.  There  the  soap-man  and  the  fish-man 
and  the  rag-man  stop  their  carts,  presenting  in  their  visits  the 
chief  incidents  that  vary  the  monotony  of  life  in  Lavinia 
Street,  if  we  except  an  occasional  dog-fight. 

One  of  the  tenements  is  a  small,  two-story  brick  house,  with 
a  basement  beneath  the  street-level,  and  a  dormer  window  in 
the  attic.  A  family  moved  in  only  the  day  before  yesterday. 
They  have  hardly  yet  got  settled.  Nevertheless,  let  us  avail 
ourselves  of  the  author's  privilege  (universal  ''dead-head"  that 
he  is  I)  and  enter. 


MAKING   THE   BEST   OF   IT.  443 

We  stand  in  a  little  hall,  the  customary  flight  of  stairs  being 
in  front,  while  a  door  leads  into  the  front  sitting-room  or 
parlor  on  the  left.  Entering  tliis  room,  the  first  figure  we 
notice  is  an  apparently  young  man,  rather  stout,  with  black 
whiskers  and  hair,  and  dressed  in  a  loose  sack  and  pantaloons, 
in  the  size  and  cut  of  which  the  liberal  fashion  of  the  day  is 
somewhat  exaggerated.  He  stands  in  low-cut  shoes  and  flesh- 
colored  silk  stockings.  About  his  neck  he  wears  a  choker  of 
the  most  advanced  style,  and  tied  with  a  narrow  lustring  rib- 
bon, gay  with  red  and  'purple.  As  his  back  is  partly  turned  to 
us,  we  cannot  yet  see  who  he  is. 

A  woman,  in  age  perhaps  not  far  from  fifty,  with  a  pleasant, 
well-rounded  face,  and  attired  in  a  white  cambric  wrapper, 
richly  embroidered,  her  hair  prudently  hidden  under  a  brown 
chenille  net,  stands  holding  a  framed  picture,  waiting  for  it  to 
be  hung.  It  is  Marshall's  new  engraving  of  Washington. 
The  lady  is  Mrs.  Pompilard,  horn  Aylesford ;  and  the  youth 
on  the  chair  is  her  husband,  the  old,  yet  vernal,  the  venerable 
yet  blooming,  Albert  liimself.  It  is  more  than  ten  years  since 
he  celebrated  his  seventieth  birthday. 

Having  hung  the  picture,  Pompilard  stepped  down,  and  said  : 
**  There !  Show  me  the  place  in  the  whole  city  where  that 
picture  would  show  to  more  advantage  than  just  there  in  that 
one  spot.  The  color  of  the  wall,  the  light  from  the  window 
are  just  what  they  ought  to  be  to  bring  out  all  the  beauties. 
Let  us  not  envy  Belmont  and  Roberts  and  Stewart  and  Aspin- 
wall  their  picture-galleries,  —  let  us  be  guilty  of  no  such  folly, 
Mrs.  Pompilai-d,  —  while  we  can  show  an  effect  like  that !  " 

"  Who  spoke  of  envying  them,  Albert  ?  Not  I,  I  'm  sure ! 
The  house  will  do  famously  for  our  temporary  use.  Yet  it 
puzzles  me  a  little  to  know  where  I  am  to  stow  these  two  chil- 
dren of  Melissa's." 

"  Pooh  !  That  can  be  easily  managed.  Leonora  can  have 
a  mattress  put  down  for  her  in  the  upper  entry ;  and  as  for  the 
five-year-old,  Albert,  my  namesake,  he  can  throw  himself  down 
anywhere,  —  in  the  wood-shed,  if  need  be.  Indeed,  his  mother 
tells  me  she  found  him,  the  other  night,  sleeping  on  the  boards 
of  the  piazza,  in  order,  as  he  said,  to  harden  himself  to  be  a 
soldier.     How  is  poor  Purling  this  morning?" 


444  PECULIAR. 

"  His  wound  seems  to  be  healing,  but  he  's  deplorably  low- 
spirited;   so  Melissa  tells  me." 

"  Low-spirited  ?  But  we  must  n't  allow  it  I  The  man  who 
could  fight  as  he  did  at  Fair  Oaks  ought  to  be  jolly  for  the 
rest  of  his  life,  even  though  he  had  to  leave  an  arm  behind 
him  on  the  battle-field." 

"It  isn't  his  wound,  I  suspect,  tliat  troubles  him,  but  the 
state  of  his  aflTairs.  The  truth  is.  Purling  is  fearfiiUy  poor, 
and  he  's  too  honest  to  run  in  debt.  His  castles  in  the  air 
have  all  tumbled  in  ruins.  Nobody  will  buy  his  1)Ooks,  and 
his  publishers  have  all  failed." 

"  But  he  can't  help  that.  The  poor  fellow  has  done  his  best, 
and  I  maintaki  that  he  has  talents  of  a  certain  sort." 

"  Perhaps  so,  but  his  forte  is  not  imaginative  writing." 

"  Then  let  him  try  history." 

'•  But  I  repeat  it,  my  dear  Albert,  imaginative  writing  is  not 
his  forte." 

"Ah!  true.  You  are  getting  satirical,  Mrs.  Pompilard. 
Our  historians,  you  think,  are  prone  to  exercise  the  novelist's 
privilege.     Let  us  go  up  and  see  the  Major." 

They  mounted  one  flight  of  staii-s  to  the  door  of  the  front 
chamber,  and  knocked.  It  was  opened  by  ]Mrs.  Purling,  once 
the  sentimental  Melissa,  now  a  very  matronly  figure,  but  still 
training  a  few  flaxen,  maiden-like  curls  over  her  temples,  and 
shedding  an  air  of  youth  and  summer  from  her  sky-blue  calico 
robe,  with  its  straw-colored  facings.  She  inherited  much  of 
the  paternal  temperament ;  and,  were  it  not  that  her  husband's 
desponding  state  of  mind  had  clouded  her  spirits,  she  would 
have  shown  her  customaiy  aspect  of  cheerful  serenity. 

"Is  the  Major  awake?" 

"  O  yes  !     Walk  in." 

"Ah!  Cecil,  my  hearty,"  exclaimed  Pompilard,  "how  are 
you  getting  on?" 

"  Pretty  well,  sir.  The  wound  's  healing,  I  believe.  I  'm 
afraid  we  're  inconveniencing  you  shockingly,  coming  here,  all 
of  us.  bag  and  baggage." 

"  Don't  speak  of  it.  Major.  Even  if  we  are  inconvenienced 
(which  I  deny),  what  then  ?  Ought  n't  ive,  too,  to  do  some- 
thing for  our  country  ?     \i  you  can  afford  to  contribute  an  arm, 


MAKING  THE  BEST  OF  IT.  445 

ought  n't  we  to  contribute  a  few  trifling  conveniences  ?  For 
my  part,  I  never  see  a  maimed  or  crippled  soldier  in  the  street, 
that  I  don't  take  off  my  hat  to  him  ;  and  if  he  is  poor,  I  give 
him  what  I  can  afford.  Was  he  not  wounded  fighting  for  the 
great  idea  of  national  honor,  integrity,  freedom,  —  fighting  for 
me  and  my  cliildren  ?  The  cold-blooded  indifference  with  which 
people  who  stay  snugly  and  safely  at  home  pass  by  these  noble 
relics  from  the  battle-field,  and  pursue  their  selfish  amusements 
and  occupations  while  thousands  of  their  countrymen  are  peril- 
ing life  and  health  in  their  behalf,  is  to  me  inexplicable.  If 
we  can't  give  anything  else,  let  us  at  least  give  our  sympathy 
and  respect,  om*  little  word  of  cheer  and  of  honor,  to  those  who 
have  sacrificed  so  much  in  order  that  we  might  be  undisturbed 
in  our  comforts  ! " 

"  I  'm  afraid,  sir,"  continued  tl«  Major,  "  that  your  good  feel- 
ings blind  you  to  the  gi-avity,  in  a  domestic  point  of  view,  of 
this  incursion  into  your  household  of  the  whole  Purling  race. 
But  the  truth  is,  I  expected  a  remittance,  about  this  time,  from 
my  Philadelphia  publisher.  It  does  n't  come.  I  wonder  what 
can  be  the  matter  ?  " 

Yes  !  The  insatiable  Purling,  having  exhausted  New  York, 
had  gone  to  Philadelphia  with  his  literary  wares,  and  had  found 
another  victim  whose  organ  of  marvellousness  was  larger  than 
his  bump  of  caution. 

"  Don't  bother  yourself  about  remittances.  Major,"  said  Pom- 
pilard.  "  Don't  be  under  any  concern.  You  must  n't  suppose 
that  because,  in  an  eccentric  freak,  Mrs.  Pompilard  has  chosen 
to  occupy  this  little  out-of-the-way  establishment,  the  exchequer 
is  therefore  exhausted.  Some  persons  might  complain  of  the 
air  of  this  neighborhood.  True,  the  piny  odors  of  the  forest 
are  more  agi'eeable  than  the  exhalations  one  gets  from  the 
desiccating  gutters  under  our  noses.  True,  the  song  of  the 
thrush  is  more  entrancing  than  the  barbaiic  yell  of  that  lazy 
milkman  who  sits  in  his  cart  and  shrieks  till  some  one  shall 
come  with  a  pitcher.  But  in  all  probability  we  sha'n't  occupy 
these  quarters  longer  than  the  summer  months.  Why  it  was 
that  Mrs.  Pompilard  should  select  them,  more  especially  for 
the  summer  months,  has  mystified  me  a  little  ;  but  the  ladies 
know  best.     Am  sorry  we  could  n't  welcome  you  at  Redcliff 


446  PIXULIAK. 

or  Thriishwood,  or  some  other  of  our  old  country-seats  ;  but  — 
the  fact  is,  we  've  disposed  of  them  all.  To  what  we  have,  my 
dear  Cecil,  consider  yourself  as  welcome  as  votes  to  a  candi- 
date or  a  contract  to  an  alderman.  So  don't  let  me  hear  you 
utter  the  word  remittances  again." 

"  Ah  !  my  dear  father,  we  men  can  make  light  of  these 
household  inconveniences,  but  they  fall  heavy  on  the  women." 

"  Not  on  my  wife,  bless  her  silly  heart !  Why,  she  '11  be 
going  round  bragging  that  she  has  a  wounded  Major  in  her 
house.  She  's  proud  of  you,  my  hero  of  ten  battles  !  Did  n't 
I ''hear  her  just  now  boasting  to  the  water-rate  collector,  that 
she  had  a  son  in  the  house  who  had  lost  an  arm  at  Fair  Oaks  ? 
A  son,  Major !  Ha,  ha,  ha !  Was  n't  it  laughable  ?  She  's 
trjdng  to  make  people  think  you  're  her  son  I  I  tell  you,  Cecil, 
while  Albert  Pompilard  has  a^ust  to  eat  or  a  kennel  to  creep 
into,  the  brave  volunteer,  wounded  in  liis  country's  cause,  shall 
not  want  for  food  or  shelter." 

The  Major  looked  wistfully  at  ]\Ii'S.  Pompilard,  and  said : 
"  He  does  n't  make  allowance  for  a  housekeeper's  troubles,  — 
does  he,  mother  ?  So  long  as  the  burden  does  n't  faU  on  him^ 
he  does  n't  realize  what  a  bore  it  is  to  have  an  extra  family 
on  one's  hands  when  one  barely  has  accommodations  for  one's 
own." 

"  What  he  says,  /  say,  Cecil !  "  replied  Madame,  kissing  the 
invalid's  pale  forehead.  "  You  're  a  thousand  times  welcome, 
my  dear  boy,  —  you  and  Melissa  and  the  children ;  and 
where  wUl  you  find  two  better  children,  or  who  give  less 
trouble  ?  No  fear  but  we  can  accommodate  you  all.  And  if 
you  've  any  wounded  companion  who  wants  to  be  taken  care 
of,  just  send  him  on.  For  your  sake,  Cecil,  and  for  the  sake 
of  the  old  flag,  we  'U  take  him  in,  and  do  our  best  by  him." 

"  Hear-  her  !  Hear  the  darling  little  woman  I  "  exclaimed 
Pompilard,  lifting  her  in  his  arms,  and  kissing  her  with  a  gen- 
uine admiration.  ''  Bravo,  wife  !  Give  me  the  woman  whose 
house  is  like  a  Bowery  omnibus,  always  ready  for  one  more. 
While  this  war  lasts,  every  true  lady  in  the  land  ought  to  be 
willing  to  give  up  her  best  room,  if  wanted,  for  a  hospital." 

The  hero  of  Fair  Oaks  was  suddenly  found  to  be  snivelling. 
He  made  a  movement  with  his  right  shoulder  as  if  to  get  a 


MAKING  THE  BEST   OF  IT.  447 

handkerchief,  but  remembering  that  his  arm  was  gone,  he  used 
his  left  hand  to  wipe  away  his  tears.  "  You  're  responsible, 
between  you,  for  this  break-down,"  said  the  lachrymose  Major. 
"  I  'm  sure  I  thank  you.  You  've  given  me  two  good  starts  in 
life  already,  father,  and  both  times  I've  gone  under.  With 
such  advantages  as  I  've  had,  I  ought  to  be  a  rich  man,  and 
here  I  am  a  pauper.  Poor  Melissa  and  the  children  are  bound 
to  be  dependent  on  their  friends.  I  'm  afraid  I  'm  an  incom- 
petent, a  ne'er-do-well." 

Pompilai-d  flourished  a  large  white  silk  handkerchief,  and, 
blowing  his  nose  sonorously,  replied  :  "  Bah  !  'T  was  no  fault 
of  yom-s,  Cecil,  that  your  operations  out  West  proved  a  failure. 
'T  was  the  fortune  of  war.  I  despise  the  man  who  never  made 
a  blunder.  How  the  deuce  could  you  know  that  a  great  finan- 
cial revulsion  was  coming  on,  just  after  you  had  bought  ?  Let 
the  spilt  milk  sink  into  the  sand.  Don't  fret  about  it.  We  '11 
have  you  hearty  as  a  buck  in  a  week  or  two.  You  shall  rejoin 
your  regiment  in  time  for  the  next  great  fight." 

The  Major  smiled  faintly,  and,  shaking  his  head  incredu- 
lously, replied :  "  The  fact  is,  what  makes  me  so  low  is,  that,  at 
the  time  I  went  into  that  last  fight,  I  was  just  recovermg  from 
a  fever  got  in  the  swamps  of  the  Chickahominy." 

"  I  know  all  about  it,  my  brave  boy  !  I  've  just  got  a  letter, 
Mrs.  Pompilard,  from  his  surgeon.  He  writes  me,  he  forbade 
Cecil's  moving  from  his  bed ;  told  him  't  would  be  at  the  risk 
of  his  life.  Like  a  gallant  soldier,  Cecil  rose  up,  pale  and 
wasted  as  he  was,  and  went  into  the  thick  ^f  the  frolic.  A 
Minie  bullet  in  the  right  arm  at  last  checked  his  activity. 
Faint  from  exhaustion  and  loss  of  blood,  he  sank  insensible  on 
the  damp  field,  and  there  lay  twenty-fom-  hours  without  succor, 
without  food,  the  cold  night-dews  aggravating  his  disease." 

"  Well,  father,"  said  the  Major,  "  between  you  and  me,  su- 
peradded to  the  fever  I  got  a  rheumatic  affection,  which  I  'm 
afraid  will  prevent  my  doing  service  very  soon  a^ain  in  tlie 
field." 

"  So  much  the  better  ! "  returned  Pompilard.  "  Then,  my 
boy,  we  can  keep  you  at  home,  —  have  you  with  us  all  the 
time.  You  can  sit  in  your  library  and  write  books,  while 
Molasses  sits  by  and  works  slippers  for  old  hlow-hard,  as  the 
boys  here  in  Lavinia  Street  have  begun  to  call  me." 


448  PFXULIAR. 

"  My  books  don't  sell,  sir,"  sighed  the  ex-author,  with  another 
incredulous  shake  of  the  head.  "  Either  there  's  a  conspiracy 
among  the  critics  to  keep  me  down,  or  else  I  'm  grossly  mis- 
taken in  my  vocation.  Besides,  I  've  lost  my  right  arm,  and 
can't  write.  "  Do  you  know,"  he  continued,  wiping  away  a 
tear,  —  "  do  you  know  what  one  of  the  newspapers  said  on 
receiving  the  news  of  my  wound  ?  Well,  it  said,  '  This  will 
be  a  happy  dispensation  for  publishers  and  the  public,  if  it 
shall  have  the  effect  of  keeping  the  Major  from  again  using 
the  pen  ! ' " 

"  The  unclean  reptile  ! "  exclaimed  Pompilard,  grinding  hig 
heel  on  the  floor  as  if  he  would  crush  something.  "  Don't  mind 
such  ribaldry.  Major." 

"  I  would  n't,  if  I  were  n't  afraid  there  's  some  truth  in  it," 
sighed  the  unsuccessful  author. 

"  It 's  an  entire  lie  !  "  exclaimed  Pompilard ;  '•'  your  books 
are  good  books,  —  excellent  books,  —  and  people  will  find  it 
out  some  of  these  days.  You  shall  write  another.  You  don't 
need  an  arm,  do  you,  to  help  you  do  brain-work  ?  Did  n't  Sir 
Walter  employ  an  amanuensis  ?  Why  can't  Major  Purling  do 
the  same?  Why  can't  he  dictate  his  magnum  opus,  —  the 
crowning  achievement  of  his  literary  life,  —  his  history  of  the 
Great  Rebellion,  —  why  can't  he  dictate  it  as  well  without  as 
with  an  ai'm  ?  " 

The  Major's  lips  began  to  work  and  his  eyes  to  brigliten. 
Ominous  of  disaster  to  the  race  of  publishers,  the  old  spirit 
began  to  be  roused  in  him,  bringing  animation  and  high  resolve. 
The  passion  of  authorship,  long  repressed,  was  threatening  to 
rekindle  in  that  bosom.  He  tried  to  rub  his  forehead  with  his 
right  hand,  but  finding  it  gone,  he  resorted  to  his  left.  His  hair 
(just  beginning  to  get  crisp  and  gi'apsh  over  his  ears)  he 
pushed  carelessly  away  from  his  brow.  He  jerked  himself  up 
from  his  pillow,  and  exclaimed :  "  Upon  my  word,  father-in- 
law,  that 's  not  a  bad  idea  of  yours,  —  that  idea  of  tackling 
myself  to  a  history  of  the  war.  Let  me  see.  How  large  a 
w^ork  ought  it  to  be  ?  Could  it  be  compressed  into  six  volumes 
of  the  size  of  Irving's  Washington  ?  I  think  it  might.  At 
any  rate,  I  could  try.  'A  History  of  the  Great  Rebellion: 
its  Rise  and  Fall.    By  Cecil  Puiiing,  late  Major  of  Volunteei-s.' 


MAKING   THE   BEST   OF   IT.  449 

Motto :  '  All  which  I  saw  and  part  of  Avhich  I  was.'     Come, 
now  !     That  would  n't  sound  badly." 

"  It  would  be  a  trump  card  for  any  publisher,"  said  Pompi- 
lard,  gi'owing  to  be  sincerely  sanguine.  "  Get  up  the  right  kind 
of  a  Prospectus,  and  publish  the  work  by  subscription.  I  could 
procure  a  thousand  subscribei-s  myself.  There  's  no  reason 
why  we  shouldn't  get  twenty  thousand.  We  might  all  make 
our  fortunes  by  it." 

"So  we  might !"  exclaimed  the  excited  Major,  forgetting 
that  there  were  ladies  present,  and  that  he  had  on  only  his 
drawers,  and  leaping  out  of  bed,  then  suddenly  leaping  back 
again,  and  begging  everybody's  pardon.  "  It  can  be  easily  cal- 
culated," continued  he.  "  Just  hand  me  a  slip  of  paper  and  a 
pencil,  Melissa.  Thank  you.  Look  now,  father-in-law  ;  twenty 
thousand  copies  at  two  dollars  a  volume  for  six  volumes  would 
give  a  hundred  and  forty  thousand  dollars  clear.  Throw  off  fifty 
per  cent  of  that  for  expenses,  commissions,  printing,  binding, 
et  cetera,  and  we  have  left  for  our  profit  seventy  thousand  dollars  ! 
"  Nothing  can  be  plainer,"  said  Pompilard. 
"  But  the  publisher  would  want  the  lion's  share  of  that," 
interposed  Melissa. 

"  Pooh  !  What  do  you  know  about  it  ?  "  retorted  Pompilard. 
"  If  we  get  up  the  work  by  subscription,  w^e  can  take  an  office 
and  do  our  own  publishing." 

"  To  be  sure  we  can  ! "  exclaimed  the  Major,  reassured. 
Here  Pompilard's  eldest  daughter,  Angelica  Ireton,  long  a 
widow,  and  old  enough  to  be  a  grandmother,  entered  the  room 
with  a  newspaper. 

"  What  is  it,  Jelly  ?  "  asked  the  paternal  voice. 
"  News  of  the  surrender  of  Memphis  !      And,  only  think  of 
it !     Frederick  is  highly  complimented  in  the  despatch." 

"  Good  for  Fred  ! "  said  Pompilard.  "  Make  a  note  of  it. 
Major,  for  the  new  history." 

A  knock  at  the  door  now  introduced  the  once  elfish  and  imi- 
tative Netty,  or  Antoinette,  grown  up  into  a  dignified  young 
lady  of  striking  appearance,  who,  if  not  handsome,  had  a  face 
beaming  with  intelligence  and  the  cheerfulness  of  an  earnest 
purpose.  She  wore,  not  a  Bloomer,  but  a  sort  of  blouse, 
which  looked  well  on  her  erect  and  slender  figure  ;  and   her 


450  PECULIAR. 

hair,  as  if  to  be  put  out  of  harm's  way  in  working  hours,  wa3 
combed  back  into  a  careless  though  graceful  knot. 

"  "Walk  in,  Netty !  "  said  the  wounded  man. 

"  Here  's  our  great  artiste,  —  our  American  Rosa  Bonheur ! " 
cried  Pompilard,  patting  her  on  the  head. 

"  Why,  father,  I  never  painted  a  lioi*se  or  a  cow  in  my  life," 
expostulated  Netty.  "  Remember,  I  'm  a  marine  painter.  I 
deal  in  ships,  ship^^TCcks,  calms,  squalls,  and  sea-washed  rocks ; 
not  in  cattle." 

"  Yes,  Cecil,  she  's  engaged  on  a  bit  of  beach  scenery,  which 
will  make  a  sensation  wlien  't  is  hung  in  the  Academy.  Bet- 
ter sea-water  has  n't  been  painted  since  Vemet ;  and  she  beats 
Vernet  in  rigging  her  ships." 

"  Hear  him,"  said  the  artistic  Netty.  "  All  liis  geese  ai-e 
swans.     What  a  ridiculous  papa  it  is  ! " 

"  Go  back  to  your  easel,  girl,"  exclaimed  Pompilard.  "  Cecil 
and  I  are  talking  business." 

"  And  that  reminds  me,"  said  Netty,  "  I  came  to  say  that  Mr. 
Maloney  is  in  the  parlor,  and  wants  to  see  you." 

"  Has  the  rascal  found  me  out  so  soon  ? "  muttered  Pompi- 
lard.    '•  I  supposed  I  had  dodged  him." 

"  Dodged  jMi\  Maloney,  dear  ?  What  harm  has  he  ever 
committed?"  asked  ^Mi-s.  Pompilard,  in  surpnse. 

"  No  harm,  perhaps  ;  but  he  's  the  most  pei-sistent  of  duns." 

"  Is  he  dunning  you  now,  my  love  ?  " 

"  Yes,  all  the  time." 

"  Do  you  owe  him  much  ?  " 

"  Not  a  cent,  confound  him  I  " 

"  Then  what  is  he  dunning  you  for  ?  " 

"  O,  he  's  dunning  me  to  get  me  to  borrow  money  of  him, 
and  I  know  he  can't  afford  to  lend  it." 

'•  Go  and  see  him,  my  dear,  and  treat  him  civilly  at  least." 

Pompilard  turned  to  the  Major,  who  was  now  deep  in  his 
Prospectus,  and  hi-ed  with  the  thought  of  a  grand  success  that 
should  make  amends  for  all  his  past  failures  in  authoi*ship. 
Seeing  that  the  invalid  was  thoroughly  cured  of  his  attack  of 
the  blues,  Pompilard  remarked,  '•  Strike  while  the  iron  's  hot, 
Major,"  and  passed  out  to  meet  the  visitor  who  was  waiting  for 
him  below. 


MAKING  THE   BEST   OF   IT.  451 

Pat  Maloiiey  was  pacing  the  parlor  in  a  great  rage  ;  and 
he  exploded  in  these  words,  as  Pompilard  presented  himself: 
"Arn't  ye  ashamed  to  look  an  honest  man  in  the  face,  yer 
desateful  ould  sinner  ?  " 

"  What 's  the  bother  now,  Pat  ?  'SYliose  mai'e  's  dead  ? " 
said  Pompilard. 

"  Whose  mare  's  dead,  yer  wicked  ould  man  ?  Is  that  the 
kind  o'  triflin'  ye  think  is  goin'  down  wid  Pat  Maloney  ?  Look 
at  that  wall." 

"Well,  what  of  it?" 

"  What  of  it  ?  See  the  cracks  of  it,  bedad,  and  the  dirt 
of  it,  and  the  damp  of  it,  and  hearken  to  the  rats  of  it,  yer 
wicked  ould  man  !  'WHiat  of  it  ?  See  that  baste  of  a  cock- 
roach comin'  out  as  confidint  as  ye  plaze,  and  straddlin'  across 
the  floor.  Smell  that  smell  up  there  in  the  comer.  Dead 
rats,  by  jabbers  !  And  this  is  the  entertainment,  is  it,  ye 
biing  a  dacent  family  to,  that  was  n't  born  to  stenches  and 
filthiness  !  Typhus  and  small-pox  in  eveiy  plank  under  the 
feet  of  ye  !  And  a  sick  sodger  ye  've  got  in  the  house  too ; 
and  because  he  was  n't  quite  kilt  down  in  them  swamps  on  the 
Chickahominy,  ye  think  ye  '11  stink  him  to  death  in  tliis  hole 
of  all  the  nastiness  !  " 

"  Mr.  Maloney,  this  is  my  house,  sir,  such  as  it  is,  and  1 
must  request  you  either  to  walk  out  of  it  or  to  keep  a  civil 
tongue  in  your  head." 

"  Hoo  !  Ye  think  to  come  the  dignified  over  me,  do  ye,  yer 
silly  ould  man !  I  'm  not  to  be  scaret  by  any  such  airs.  I  tell 
ye  it 's  bastely  to  bring  dacent  women  and  children  inter  sich  a 
cesspool  as  this.  By  jabbers,  I  shall  have  to  stop  at  Bai'ker's, 
as  I  go  back,  and  take  a  bath." 

"  Maloney,  leave  the  house." 

"  Lave  the  house,  is  it  ?  Not  till  I  'm  ready,  will  I  lave  the 
house  on  the  biddin'  of  the  likes  of  a  man  who  has  n't  more 
regard  for  the  mother  that  bore  hhn  nor  to  do  what  you  've 
been  doin',  yer  ould  barbarryan." 

"  Quit  the  house,  I  say  !  K  you  think  I  'm  going  to  borrow 
money  of  a  beggarly  Irish  tailor,  you  '11  find  yourself  mistaken, 
Mr.  Pat  Maloney  ! " 

"  0,  it 's  that  game  yez  thinkin'  to  come  on  me,  is  it  ?     Ha ! 


452  PECULIAR. 

By  jabbers,  I  'm  ready  for  yer  there  too.  He  's  a  beggarly 
Irish  tailor,  is  he  ?  Then  why  did  ye  have  tlie  likes  o'  him  at 
all  yer  grand  parties  at  Redcliff  ?  "Why  did  ye  have  him  and 
his  at  all  yer  little  family  hops  ?  Why  could  n't  ye  git  through 
a  forenoon,  yer  ould  hyppercrit,  widout  the  beggarly  Irish  tailor, 
to  play  billiards  wid  yer,  or  go  a  fishin'  wid  yer,  or  a  sailin' 
wid  yer?" 

"  I  don't  choose  to  keep  up  the  acquaintance,  Mr.  Maloney, 
now  that  you  are  poor." 

"  That 's  the  biggest  lie  ye  iver  tould  in  yer  life,  yer  ould 
chate!" 

"  Do  you  tell  me  I  lie  ?  Out  of  my  house  !  Pay  your  own 
debts,  you  blackguard  Paddy,  before  you  come  playing  flush  of 
your  money  to  a  gentleman  like  me." 

"A  jintleman  I  Ye  call  yerself  a  jintleman,  do  ye,  —  ye 
onnateral  ould  simpleton  ?  Ye  bring  born  ladies  inter  a  fonl, 
mireputable  house  like  this  is,  in  a  foul,  unreputable  street,  wid 
a  house  of  ill-fame  on  both  sides  of  yer,  and  another  oppersit, 
and  then  ye  call  yerself  a  jintleman.  A  jintleman,  bedad  ! 
Ha,  ha ! " 

"  You  lie,  Pat  Maloney.  My  next-door  neighbors  are  de- 
cent folks,  —  much  decenter  than  you  are,  you  foul-mouthed 
Paddy." 

"  And  thin  ye  tell  me  to  pay  my  debts,  do  yer  ?  Find  the 
debt  of  Pat  Maloney's  that 's  unpaid,  and  he  '11  pay  it  double, 
yer  unprincipled  ould  calumniator.  If  't  warrent  for  yer  eighty 
yares,  I'd  larrup  yer  on  the  spot." 

"  I  claim  no  privilege  of  age,  you  cowardly  tailor.  That 's 
a  dodge  of  yours  that  won't  serve.  Come  on,  you  ninth  part 
of  a  man,  if  you  have  even  that  much  of  a  man  left  in  you. 
Come  on,  or  I  '11  pound  your  head  against  the  wall." 

"  Ye  'd  knock  the  house  do^vn,  bedad,  if  ye  tried  it.  I  'd 
like  no  better  sport  nor  to  polish  ye  off  wid  these  two  fists  of 
mine,  yer  aggrawatin'  superannuated  ould  haythen." 

"  You  shall  find  what  my  eighty  years  can  do,  you  ranting 
Paddy.  Since  you  won't  go  quietly  out  of  the  house,  I  'II  put 
you  out." 

And  Pompilard  began  pulling  up  his  sleeves,  as  if  for  action. 
jSIaloney  was  not  behind  him  in  his  pugilistic  demonstrations. 


MAKING  THE  BEST   OF  IT.  453 

"  If  ye  want  to  have  the  wind  knocked  out  of  yer,"  said  he, 
**jist  try  it,  yer  quarrelsome  oiild  bully,  —  gittin'  up  a  disturb- 
ance like  this  at  your  time  of  life ! " 

Here  Angelica,  who  had  been  listening  at  the  door,  burst 
into  the  room,  and  interposed  between  the  disputants.  By  the 
iiid  of  some  mysterious  signs  and  winks  addressed  to  Maloney, 
she  succeeded  in  pacifying  him  so  far  that  he  took  up  his  hat, 
and  shaking  his  head  indignantly  at  Pompilard,  followed  her 
out  of  the  room.  The  front  door  was  heard  to  open  and  close. 
Then  there  was  a  slight  creaking  on  the  basement  stairs,  fol- 
lowed by  a  coughing  from  Angelica,  and  a  minute  afterwards 
she  re-entered  the  parlor. 

She  found  her  father  with  his  fists  doubled,  and  his  breast 
thrown  back,  knocking  down  an  imaginary  Ii-ishman  in  dumb 
show. 

"  Has  that  brute  left  the  house  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  father.     Wliat  did  he  want  ?  " 

"  He  has  been  dunning  me  to  borrow  a  couple  of  thousand 
dollars  of  him,  —  the  improvident  old  fool.  He  needs  every 
cent  of  his  money  in  his  business.  He  knows  it.  He  merely 
wants  to  put  me  under  an  obligation,  knowing  I  may  never  pay 
him  back.     He  can't  dupe  me." 

"  If  't  would  gratify  poor  Maloney,  why  not  humor  him  ?  " 
said  Angelica.  "  He  feels  eternally  gi'ateful  to  you  for  ha\dng 
made  a  man  of  him.  You  helped  him  to  a  fortune.  He  has 
often  said  he  owed  it  to  you  that  he  was  n't  a  sot  about  the 
streets." 

"  If  I  helped  him  to  a  fortune,  I  showed  him  how  to  lose  it. 
Jelly.  So  there  we  're  just  even.  I  tell  you  I  won't  get  in 
debt  again,  if  I  can  help  it.  You,  Jelly,  are  the  only  one  I  've 
boiTowed  from  since  the  last  great  crash." 

"And  in  borrowing  from  me,  you  merely  take  back  your 
own,"  interposed  Angelica. 

"  I  've  paid  everytliing  in  the  way  of  a  debt,  principal  and 
interest,"  said  Pompilard.  "  And  I  don't  want  to  break  the 
charm  again  at  my  time  of  life.  Debt  is  the  Devil's  own  snare. 
I  know  it  from  sad  experience.  I've  two  good  schemes  on 
foot  for  retrieving  my  affairs,  without  having  to  risk  much 
money  in  the  operation.  If  you  can  let  me  have  five  hundred 
dollars,  I  think  't  will  bd  the  only  nest-egg  I  shall  need." 


454  PECULIAR. 

"  Certainly,  father,"  said  Angelica ;  and  going  down-stairs 
into  the  basement,  she  found  the  persevering  Maloney  waiting 
her  coming. 

"ISIr.  Maloney,"  said  she,  "let  me  propose  a  compromise. 
My  father  wants  five  hundred  dollars  of  me.  I  have  n't  it  to 
give  him.  But  if  you  '11  lend  it  on  my  receipt,  I  '11  take  it  and 
be  very  thankful." 

"  Make  it  a  thousand,  and  I  '11  say  yes,"  said  Pat. 

"  Well,  I  '11  not  haggle  with  you,  Mr.  Maloney,"  replied 
Angelica. 

Maloney  handed  her  the  money,  and,  refusing  to  take  a  re- 
ceipt, seized  his  hat,  and  quitted  the  house  by  the  back  area, 
looking  round  suspiciously,  and  snuffing  contemptuously  at  the 
suiTOundings,  as  he  emerged  into  the  alley-way  which  conduct- 
ed him  to  one  of  the  streets  leading  into  the  Bowery. 

Angelica  put  five  hundred  dollars  in  her  port-monnaie,  and 
handed  the  like  amount  to  her  sire.  He  thrust  it  into  his  vest- 
pocket,  brushed  his  hat,  and  ai-ranged  his  choker.  Mrs.  Pora- 
pilard  came  down  with  the  Prospectus  that  was  to  be  the 
etymon  of  a  new  fortune.  He  took  it,  kissed  wife  and  daugh- 
ter, and  issued  from  the  house. 

As  he  passed  up  Lavinia  Street,  many  a  curious  eye  from  be- 
hind curtains  and  blinds  looked  out  admiringly  on  the  imposing 
figure.  One  boy  on  the  sidewalk  remarked  to  another :  "  I 
say,  Ike,  who  is  that  old  swell  as  has  come  into  our  street  ? 
I've  a  mind  to  shy  this  dead  kitten  at  him." 

"  Don't  do  it,  Peter  Craig  !  "  exclaimed  Ike  ;  "  father  says 
that  man 's  a  detective,  —  a  feller  as  sees  you  when  you  think 
he  ain't  looking.  We  'd  better  mind  how  we  call  arter  him 
again,  '  Old  blow-hard  ! ' " 


A  DOMESTIC  RECONNOISSANCE.  455 


CHAPTER    XLIV. 

A  DOMESTIC  RECONNOISSANCE. 

"  0  Spirit  of  the  Summer  time  ! 

Bring  back  the  roses  to  the  dells  ; 
The  swallow  from  her  distant  clime, 
The  honey-bee  from  drowsy  cells. 
Bring  back  the  singing  and  the  scent 

Of  meadow-lands  at  dewy  prime  ;  — 
0,  bring  again  my  heart's  content, 
Thou  Spirit  of  the  Summer  time  ! " 

fF.  AUingham. 

THE  following  Wednesday,  Pompilard  returned  rather 
earlier  than  usual  from  his  diurnal  visit  to  Wall  Street. 
He  brought  home  a  printed  copy  of  the  Prospectus,  and  sent  it 
up-stairs  to  the  wounded  author.  Then  taking  from  the  book- 
case a  yellow-covered  pamphlet,  he  composed  himself  in  an 
arm-chair,  and,  resting  his  legs  on  an  ottoman,  began  reading 
that  most  thrilling  production  of  the  season,  "  The  Guerilla's 
Bride,  or  the  Temptation  and  the  Triumph,  by  Carrie  Cameron." 

Mrs.  Pompilard  glided  into  the  room,  and,  putting  her  hands 
over  his  eyes  from  behind,  said,  "  What 's  the  matter,  my 
love  ?  " 

"  Matter  ?     Nothing,  wife !     Leave  me  to  my  novel." 

"  Always  of  late,"  she  replied,  "  when  I  see  you  with  one  of 
these  sensation  novels,  I  know  that  something  has  gone  wong 
with  you." 

"  Nonsense,  you  silly  woman  !  I  know  what  you  want.  It 's 
a  kiss.     There !     Take  it  and  go." 

"  You  've  lost  money !  "  said  Madam,  receiving  the  kiss,  then 
shaking  her  finger  at  him,  and  returning  to  her  household 
tasks. 

She  was  right  in  her  surmise.  Pompilard,  hopeful  of  Union 
victories  on  the  Peninsula  of  Virginia,  had  been  selling  gold  in 
expectation  of  a  fall.  There  had  been  a  large  rise,  and  his  five 
hundred  dollars  had  been  swallowed  up  in  the  gi-eat  maw  of 


456  PECULIAR. 

Wall  Street  like  a  straw  in  Niagara.  He  passed  the  rest  of 
that  day  in  the  house,  reading  his  novel,  or  plaj-ing  backgam- 
mon yriili  the  Major. 

The  next  morning,  putting  the  Prospectus  and  his  pride 
with  it  in  his  pocket,  he  issued  forth,  resolved  to  see  what  could 
be  done  in  furtherance  of  the  grand  literaiy  scheme  which  was 
to  immortalize  and  enrich  his  son-in-law.  Entering  Broadway 
he  walked  up  to  Union  Park,  then  along  Fourteenth  Street  to 
the  Fifth  Avenue.  And  now,  every  square  or  two,  he  Avould 
pass  door-plates  that  displayed  some  familiar  name.  Fre- 
quently he  would  be  tempted  to  stop,  but  he  passed  on  and  on, 
imtil  he  came  to  one  which  bore  in  lai-ge  black  walnut  lettera 
the  name  Charlton. 

With  this  gentleman  he  had  not  had  any  intercourse  since 
the  termination  of  that  great  lawsuit  in  which  they  had  been 
opposed.  Charlton,  having  put  the  greater  part  of  his  property 
into  gold  just  before  the  war,  had  made  enoiTnous  sums  by  the 
rise  in  the  precious  metal.  It  was  noticed  in  Wall  Street,  that 
he  was  gi-owing  fat ;  that  he  had  lost  his  anxious,  eager  look. 
War  was  not  such  a  bad  thing  after  all.  Surely  he  would  be 
glad  of  the  opportunity  of  subscribing  for  five  or  ten  copies  of 
the  wounded  Purling's  great  work. 

These  considerations  encouraged  the  credulous  Pompilard  to 
call.  A  respectable  private  carriage  stood  before  the  house, 
and  in  it  sat  a  young  lady,  probably  ]Miss  Charlton,  playing 
with  a  pet  spaniel.  Pompilai'd  rang  the  door-bell,  and  a  dapper 
footman  in  white  gloves  ushered  him  up-stairs  into  the  libraiy. 
Here  Charlton  sat  computing  his  profits  on  the  rates  of  ex- 
change as  given  in  that  day's  report. 

He  rose  on  Pompilard's  entrance,  and  with  a  profuse  polite- 
ness that  contrasted  somewhat  ^dth  his  manner  on  pre\'ious 
occasions,  shook  hands  with  him,  and  placed  him  in  a  seat. 
Excessive  prosperity  had  at  last  taught  Charlton  to  temper  his 
refusals  with  gracious  speech.  It  was  so  much  cheaper  to  give 
smooth  words  than  solid  coin  I 

"  Am  delighted  to  see  you,  ISIt.  Pompilard  !  "  quoth  he.  "  How 
iresh  and  }"ouug  you  're  looking !  Your  family  are  all  well,  I 
trust." 

•^  All  save  my  son-in-law,  Major  Purling.     He,  having  been 


A  DOMESTIC  RECONNOISSANCE.  457 

thrown  on  his  back  by  a  bad  wound  and  by  sickness  got  in 
camp,  now  proposes  to  occupy  himself  with  preparing  a  history 
of  the  war.  Here  is  his  Prospectus,  and  we  want  your  name 
to  head  the  subscription." 

"  A  most  laudable  project !  Excellent !  I  don't  doubt  the 
Major's  ability  to  produce  a  most  authentic  and  admirable  work. 
I  shall  take  great  pleasure  in  commending  it  to  my  friends." 

Here  Charlton,  who  had  received  one  of  the  pjfpers  from 
Pompilard,  and  glanced  at  it,  handed  it  back  to  the  old  man. 

"  I  want  your  autograph,  Mr.  Charlton.  The  work,  you  per- 
ceive, will  be  in  six  volumes  at  only  two  dollars  a  volume.  For 
how  many  copies  will  you  put  down  your  name  ?  " 

"  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Pompilard,  but  the  demands  on  my  purse 
for  objects,  public  and  private,  are  so  incessant  just  now,  that  I 
must  dechne  subscribing.  Probably  when  the  work  is  pub- 
lished I  shall  desire  to  procure  a  copy  for  my  library.  I  have 
heard  of  Major  Purling  as  a  gallant  officer  and  a  distinguished 
writer.  I  can't  doubt  he  will  succeed  splendidly.  Make  my 
compliments  to  your  estimable  family." 

Here  a  lady  elegantly  dressed,  as  if  for  a  promenade,  entered 
the  room,  and  asked  for  the  morning  paper.  She  looked  search- 
ingly  at  Pompilard,  and  then  went  up  to  him,  and  putting  out 
her  hand,  said,  "  Have  you  forgotten  Charlotte  Dykvelt  ?  " 

"  Impossible !  Who  could  have  believed  it  ?  And  you  are 
now  IVIrs.  Charlton  !  " 

The  lady's  Hp  curled  a  little,  as  if  no  gracious  emotion  came 
with  the  reminder.  Then  taking  from  the  old  man's  hand  the 
printed  sheet  which  Charlton  had  returned  to  him,  she  ex- 
claimed :  "  What  have  we  here  ?  A  Prospectus  !  Is  not  Ma- 
jor Purling  your  son-in-law  ?  To  be  sure  he  is !  A  brave 
officer !  He  must  be  encouraged  in  his  project.  And  how  is 
your  daughter,  Mrs.  Ireton  ?  I  see,"  continued  Mrs.  Charlton, 
laying  down  the  Prospectus  and  pulling  away  nervously  at  her 
gloves,  —  "I  see  that  your  gi'andson.  Captain  Ireton,  has  been 
highly  complimented  for  gallant  behavior  on  the  Mssissippi." 

''  Yes,  he  's  a  good  boy,  is  Fred.  Do  you  know  he  was  a 
great  admirer  of  yours  ?  " 

The  lady  was  suddenly  absorbed  in  looking  for  a  certain 
advertisement  of  a  Soldier's  Rehef  Meeting.     Pompilard  took 

20 


458  PECULIAR. 

up  his  Prospectus,  began  folding  it,  and  rose  from  his  chair  as 
if  to  go. 

"Let  me  look  at  that  Prospectus  a  moment,"  said  Mrs. 
Charlton,  taking  up  a  pen. 

"  Certainly,"  he  replied,  handing  her  the  paper.  ^Tiile  she 
read  it,  he  examined  what  appeai*ed  a  bronze  vase  that  stood 
on  one  side  of  the  table.  He  undertook  to  lift  it,  and  drew 
out  from  a  socket,  which  extended  beneath  the  surface  of  the 
wood,  a  polished  steel  tube. 

"  Take  care,  Mr.  Pompilard ! "  said  Charlton  ;  "  't  is  loaded. 
No  one  would  suppose  't  was  a  revolver,  eh  ?  I  got  it  the  day 
after  old  Van  Wyck  was  robbed,  sitting  in  his  library.  Please 
don't  mention  the  fact  that  I  have  such  a  weapon  within  my 
reach." 

"I  have  put  down  my  name  for  thirty  copies,"  said  Mrs. 
Charlton,  returning  to  Pompilard  his  Prospectus. 

""But  this  is  munificent.  Madam ! "  exclaimed  the  old  man. 

Charlton  gnawed  his  lips  in  helpless  anger. 

Madam  had  played  her  cards  so  well,  that  it  was  a  stipula- 
tion she  and  her  daughter  should  have  each  a  large  allowance, 
in  the  spending  of  which  they  were  to  be  independent  Draw- 
ing forth  her  purse,  she  took  from  it  three  one  hundred  dollar 
bills,  a  fifty,  and  a  ten,  and  handed  them  to  Pompilard. 

"  Do  you  wish  to  pay  in  advance.  Madam  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  wish  that  money  to  be  paid  directly  to  the  author,  to  aid 
him  in  his  patriotic  laboi-s,"  she  replied.  "  There  need  be  no 
receipt,  and  there  need  be  no  delivery  of  books." 

Pompilard  took  the  bills  and  looked  her  in  the  face.  He 
felt  that  words  would  be  impertinent  in  convejHng  his  thanks. 
She  gave  him  one  sad,  sweet  smile  of  acknowledgment  of  his 
silent  gratitude.  "Major  Purling,"  said  he,  in  a  tone  that 
trembled  a  little,  "  will  be  greatly  encouraged  by  your  liber- 
ality. I  will  bid  you  good  moraing.  Madam.  Good  morning, 
Mr.  Charlton!" 

Husband  and  wife  were  left  alone. 

"  That 's  the  way  you  fool  away  my  money,  is  it,  IVIrs.  Chaii- 
ton?  Three  hundred  and  sixty  dollars  disposed  of  already! 
A  nice  morning's  work !  " 

"  You  speak  of  the  money  as  yours,  air.     You  forget.     By 


A  DOMESTIC  RECONNOISSANCE.  459 

contract  it  is  mine.  I  shall  spend  it  as  I  choose.  Does  not 
our  agreement  say  that  my  allowance  and  my  daughter's  shall 
be  absolutely  at  our  disposal?" 

"Those  allowances,  Mrs.  Charlton,  must  be  cut  down  to 
meet  the  state  of  the  times.  I  can't  afford  them  any 
longer." 

"  Sir,  you  say  what  you  know  to  be  untrue.  Your  profits 
from  the  rise  in  exchange  alone,  since  the  war  began,  have 
already  been  two  hundred  thousand  dollars.  The  rise  in  your 
securities  generally  has  been  enormous.  And  yet  you  talk  of 
not  affording  the  miserable  pittance  you  allow  me  and  my 
daughter ! " 

"  A  miserable  pittance !  O  yes !  Ten  thousand  a  year  for 
pin-money  is  a  very  miserable  pittance." 

"  So  it  is,  when  one  lays  by  five  times  that  amount  of  super- 
fluous income.  Thank  me  that  I  don't  force  you  to  double 
the  allowance.  Do  you  think  to  juggle  me  with  your  groans 
about  family  expenses  and  the  hard  times  ?  Am  I  so  easily 
duped,  think  you,  as  not  to  see  through  the  miserly  sham  ?  " 

"This  is  the  woman  that  promised  to  love,  honor,  and 
obey!" 

"  Do  you  twit  me  with  that  ?  Go  back,  Charlton,  to  that 
first  day  you  pressed  me  to  be  your  wife.  I  frankly  told  you 
I  could  not  love  you,  —  that  I  loved  another.  You  made  light 
of  all  that.  You  enlisted  the  influence  of  my  parents  against 
me.  You  drove  me  into  the  toils.  No  sooner  was  I  married 
than  I  found  that  you,  with  all  your  wealth,  had  chosen  me 
merely  because  you  thought  I  was  rich.  What  a  satisfaction 
it  was  to  me  when  I  heard  of  my  father's  failure !  What  was 
your  disappointment,  —  your  rage  !  But  there  was  no  help  for 
it.  And  so  we  settled  down  to  a  loveless  life,  in  which  we 
have  thus  far  been  thoroughly  consistent.  You  go  your  way, 
and  I  mine.  You  find  your  rapture  in  your  coupons  and  divi- 
dends ;  I  seek  such  distraction  as  I  can  in  my  little  charities, 
my  Sanitary  Aid  Societies,  and  ray  Seaman's  Relief  If  you 
think  to  cut  me  off"  from  these  resources,  the  worst  will  proba- 
bly be  your  own." 

Charlton  was  cowed  and  nonplussed,  as  usual  in  these  alter- 
cations.    "  There,  go ! "  said  he.     "  Go  and  make  ducks  and 


460  PECULIAR. 

drakes  of  your  money  in  your  own  way.  Tliat  old  Pomposity 
has  left  his  damned  Prospectus  here  on  the  table." 

Mrs.  Charlton  passed  out  and  down-stairs.  On  a  slab  in 
the  hall  was  a  bouquet  which  a  neighboring  greenhouse  man 
she  had  befriended  had  just  left.  She  stooped  to  smell  of  it. 
T\Tiat  was  there  in  the  odors  which  brought  back  associations 
that  made  her  bow  her  head  while  the  tears  gushed  forth  ? 
Conspicuous  among  the  flowers  was  a  bunch  of  English  vio- 
lets,— just  such  a  little  bunch  as  Frederick  Ireton  used  to 
bring  her  in  those  far-off  days,  when  the  present  and  the  future 
seemed  so  flooded  with  rose-hues. 

"  ]\Iiss  Lucy  wants  to  know  if  you  're  ever  coming  ?  "  said  a 
sen^ant. 

"  Yes  ! "  replied  'Mrs.  Charlton.  '•  'T  is  too  bad  to  keep  her 
waiting  so  !  "  And  the  next  moment  she  joined  her  daughter 
in  the  caiTiage. 

Meanwhile  Charlton,  as  his  wife  left  him,  had  groaned  out, 
in  soliloquy,  "  What  a  devil  of  a  woman  !  How  different  from 
my  fii-st  wife  ! "  Then  he  sought  consolation  in  the  quotations 
of  stock.  While  he  read  and  chuckled,  there  was  a  knock.  It 
was  only  Pompilard  returned  for  his  Prospectus.  As  the  old 
man  was  folding  it  up,  the  white-gloved  footman  laid  a  card 
before  Charlton.  "  Vance  ! "  exclaimed  the  latter  :  "  I  'm  ac- 
quainted with  no  such  person.     Show  him  up." 

Vance  had  donned  his  citizen's  dress.  He  wore  a  blue  frock, 
fastened  by  a  single  black  silk  button  at  the  top,  a  buff  vest, 
white  pantaloons,  and  summer  shoes.  Without  a  shoulder-strap, 
he  looked  at  once  the  soldier  and  the  gentleman.  Rapidly  and 
keenly  he  took  Charlton's  physiognomical  measure,  then  glanced 
at  Pompilard.  The  latter  having  folded  up  liis  Prospectus,  was 
tm*ning  to  quit  the  room.  As  he  bowed  on  departing,  Charlton 
remarked,  "  Good  day  to  you,  Mr.  Pompilard." 

"  Did  I  hear  the  name  Pompilard  ?  "  inquired  Vance. 

"  That  is  my  name,  sii\"  replied  the  old  man. 

"  Is  it  he  whose  wife  was  a  Miss  Aylesford  ?  " 

"  The  same,  sii\" 

"  ]yir.  Pompilard,  I  have  been  trying  to  find  you.  My  car- 
riage is  at  the  door.  Will  you  do  me  the  favor  to  wait  in  it 
five  minutes  for  me  till  I  come  down  ?  " 


A  DOMESTIC  KECONNOISSANCE.  461 

"  Certainly,  sir."     And  Pompilard  went  out. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Charlton,"  said  Vance,  "  what  I  have  to  say  is, 
that  I  am  called  Colonel  Vance  ;  that  I  am  recently  from  New 
Orleans ;  that  while  there  it  became  a  part  of  my  official  duty 
to  look  at  certain  property  held  in  your  name,  but  claimed  by 
another  party." 

"  Claimed  by  a  rebel  and  a  traitor.  Colonel  Vance.  I  'm 
delighted  to  see  you,  sir.     Will  you  be  seated  ?  " 

"  No,  thank  you.  Let  me  propose  to  you,  that,  as  prelimi- 
nary to  other  proceedings,  I  introduce  to  you  to-night  certain 
parties  who  came  with  me  from  New  Orleans,  and  whose  testi- 
mony may  be  at  once  interesting  and  useful." 

"  I  shall  be  obliged  to  you  for  the  interview.  Colonel  Vance." 

"  It  would  be  proper  that  your  confidential  lawyer  should 
be  present ;  for  it  may  be  well  to  cross-question  some  of  the 
witnesses." 

"  Thank  you  for  the  suggestion,  Colonel  Vance.  I  shall 
avail  myself  of  it." 

"  As  there  will  be  ladies  in  the  party,  I  hope  your  wife  and 
daughter  will  be  present." 

"  I  will  give  them  your  message." 

"  Tell  them  we  have  a  young  officer  with  us  who  was  shot 
through  the  lungs  in  battle  not  long  since.  Shall  we  make  the 
hour  half-past  eight ;  —  place,  the  Astor  House  ?  " 

"  That  would  suit  me  precisely.  Colonel  Vance." 

"  Then  I  will  bid  you  good  day,  sir,  for  the  present." 

Charlton  put  out  his  hand,  but  Vance  bowed  without  seem- 
ing to  notice  it,  and  passed  out  of  the  house  into  the  carriage. 

"  Mr.  Pompilard,"  said  he,  as  the  can-iage  moved  on,  "  are 
you  wilUng  to  take  me  on  trust,  say  for  the  next  hour,  as  a 
gentleman,  and  comply  with  my  reasonable  requests  without 
compelling  me  to  explain  myself  further?  Call  me,  if  you 
please,  Mr.  Vance." 

"  Truly,  Mr.  Vance,"  replied  Pompilard,  "  I  do  not  see  how 
I  risk  much  in  acceding  to  your  proposition.  If  you  were  an 
impostor,  you  would  hardly  think  of  fleecing  me,  for  I  am 
shorn  close  ah'eady.  Besides,  you  carry  the  right  signet  on 
your  fi'ont.     Yes,  I  will  trust  you,  Mr.  Vance." 

"  Thank  you,  sir.     Your  wife  is  living  ?  " 


462  PECULIAR 

"  I  left  her  alive  and  well  some  two  houi*s  ago." 

"  Has  she  any  children  of  her  own  ?  " 

"  One,  —  a  daughter,  Antoinette.  We  call  her  Netty.  A 
most  extraordinaiy  creature !  An  artist,  sir  !  Paints  sea- 
pieces  better  than  Lane,  Bradford,  or  Church  himself.  A 
girl  of  decided  genius." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Pompilard,  if  your  house  is  not  far  from  here,  I 
wish  to  di'ive  to  it  at  once,  and  have  your  wife  and  daughter  do 
us  the  honor  to  take  seats  in  this  carriage." 

"  That  we  can  do,  Mr.  Vance.  Driver,  27  Lavinia  Street ! 
The  day  is  pleasant.  They  will  enjoy  a  drive.  I  must  make 
you  acquainted  with  my  son-in-law,  Major  Purling.  A  noble 
fellow,  sii' !  Had  an  arm  shot  off  at  Fair  Oaks.  Used  up,  too, 
by  fever.  Brave  as  Julius  Caesar !  And,  like  Julius  Ccesar, 
writes  as  well  as  he  fights.  He  proposes  getting  up  a  history 
of  the  war.     Here  's  his  Prospectus." 

Vance  looked  at  it.  "  I  must  n't  be  outdone,"  said  he,  "  by 
a  lady.  Put  me  down  also  for  thirty  copies.  Put  down  ISlr. 
Winslow  and  Madame  Volney  each  for  as  many  more." 

"  But  that  is  astounding,  sir  !  "  cried  Pompilard.  "  A  hun- 
dred and  twenty  copies  disposed  of  already  !  The  Major  will 
jump  out  of  his  bed  at  the  news  ! " 

As  the  carriage  crossed  the  Bowery  and  bowled  into  Lavinia 
Street,  Pompilard  remarked :  "  There  are  some  advantages,  Mr. 
Vance,  in  being  on  the  East  River  side.  We  get  a  purer  sea 
air  in  summer,  sir." 

At  that  moment  an  unfortunate  stench  of  decayed  vegetables 
was  blown  in  upon  them,  by  way  of  comment,  and  PompUard 
added :  "  You  see,  sir,  we  are  very  particular  about  removing 
all  noxious  rubbish.  Health,  sir,  is  our  fii-st  consideration.  We 
have  the  dirt-carts  busy  all  the  time." 

Here  the  carriage  stopped.  <'  A  modest  little  place  we  have 
taken  for  the  summer,  ISIi*.  Vance.  Small,  but  convenient  and 
retired.  Most  worthy  and  quiet  people,  our  neighbors.  Walk 
in,  sir." 

They  entered  the  parlor.  ''  Take  a  seat,  ^Lr.  Vance.  If 
you  've  a  taste  for  art,  let  me  commend  to  your  examination 
that  fine  engraving  between  the  windows.  Here  's  a  new  book, 
if  you  are  literary,  —  !Miss  Carrie  Cameron's  famous  novel. 
Amuse  youi*self." 


A  DOMESTIC  RECONNOISSANCE.  463 

And  having  handed  him  "  The  Guerilla's  Bride,"  Pompilard 
rushed  up-stairs.  Instantly  a  great  tumult  was  heard  in  the 
room  over  Vance's  head.  It  was  accompanied  with  poundings, 
jumpings,  and  exultant  shouts.  Three  hundred  and  sixty  dol- 
lars had  been  placed  on  the  coverlid  beneath  which  lay  the 
wounded  Purling.  It  was  the  first  money  his  literary  efforts 
had  ever  brought  him.  The  spell  was  broken.  Thenceforth 
the  thousands  would  pour  in  upon  him  in  an  uninterrupted 
flood.  Can  it  be  wondered  that  there  was  much  jubilation 
over  the  news  ? 

Vance  was  of  course  introduced  to  all  the  inmates,  and 
made  a  partaker  in  their  good  spirits.  At  last  Mrs.  Pompi- 
lard and  Netty  were  dressed  and  ready.  Vance  handed  them 
into  the  carriage.  He  and  Pompilard  took  the  back  seat.  As 
they  di'ove  off  they  encountered  a  crowd  before  an  adjoining 
door.  It  was  composed  of  some  of  those  "  most  worthy  and 
quiet  neighbors"  of  whom  Pompilard  had  recently  spoken. 
They  were  gathering,  amid  a  Babel  of  voices,  round  a  cart 
where  an  ancient  virago,  Milesian  by  birth,  was  berating  a 
butcher  whom  she  charged  with  having  sold  her  a  stale  leg  of 
mutton  the  week  before. 

"  One  misses  these  bustling  little  scenes  in  the  rural  dis- 
tricts,'* quoth  Pompilard.  "  They  serve  to  give  color  and 
movement,  life  and  sparkle,  to  our  modest  neighborhood." 

"  ]\Irs.  Pompilard,"  said  Vance,  "  we  are  on  our  way  to  the 
Astor  House,  where  I  propose  to  introduce  to  you  a  young 
lady.  I  wish  you  and  your  daughter  to  scrutinize  her  closely, 
and  to  tell  me  if  you  see  in  her  a  likeness  to  any  one  you  have 
ever  known." 


464  PECULIAR. 

CHAPTER    XLV. 

ANOTHER  DESCENDANT   OF  THE  CAVALIERS. 

"  Those  flashes  of  marvellous  light  point  to  the  existence  of  dormant  faculties,  which, 
unless  God  can  be  supposed  to  have  over-furnished  the  soul  for  its  appointed  field  of 
action,  seem  only  to  be  awaiting  more  favorable  circumstances,  to  awaken  and  disclose 
themselves."— ^oAn  James  Tayler. 

WHILE  the  cai'riage  is  rolling  on,  and  the  occupants  are 
getting  better  acquainted,  let  us  hurry  forward  and 
clear  the  way  by  a  few  explanations. 

Vance  and  his  party  had  now  been  several  days  in  Xew 
York,  occupying  contiguous  suites  of  rooms  at  the  Astor 
House.  The  ladies  consisted  of  Clara,  Madam  Yolney,  and 
Mrs.  Ripper  (late  Mrs.  Gentry).  Esha  was,  of  course,  of  the 
party.  She  had  found  her  long-lost  daughter  in  Hattie,  or  Mrs. 
Davy,  now  a  widow,  whose  testimony  came  in  to  fortify  the 
proofs  that  seemed  accumulating  to  place  Clara's  identity  be- 
yond dispute.  Hattie  joyfully  resumed  her  place  as  Clara's 
femme  de  chambre,  though  the  post  was  also  claimed  by  the 
unyielding  Esha. 

The  gentlemen  of  the  party  included  ~Mi\  Winslow,  IMr. 
Semmes,  >\Ir.  Ripper,  Captain  Onslow,  Colonel  Delancy  Hyde, 
and  a  youth  not  yet  introduced. 

Never  had  Vance  showed  his  influence  in  so  marked  a  de- 
gree as  in  the  change  he  had  wrought  in  Hyde.  Detecting  in 
the  rascal's  affection  for  a  widowed  sister  the  one  available  spot 
in  his  character,  Vance,  like  a  great  moral  engineer,  had 
mounted  on  that  vantage-ground  the  guns  which  were  to  bat- 
ter down  the  citadels  of  ignorance,  profligacy,  and  pride,  in 
-which  all  the  regenerative  capabilities  of  Hyde's  nature  had 
been  imprisoned  so  long.  The  idea  of  having  that  poor  toiling 
sister  —  her  who  had  "  fust  taught  him  to  make  dirt-pies,  doA\Ti 
thar  by  the  old  duck-pond  "  —  rescued  with  her  children  from 
poverty  and  suffering,  placed  in  a  situation  of  comfort  and 
respectability,  was  so    overpowering   to   the   Colonel,  that  it 


ANOTHER  DESCENDANT   OF  THE  CAVALIERS.  465 

enabled  Vance  to  lead  him  like  a  child  even  to  the  abjuring  of 
strong  drink  and  profanity.  Cut  off  from  bragging  of  his  Vir- 
ginia birth  and  his  descent  from  the  Cavaliers,  —  made  to  see 
the  false  and  senseless  nature  of  the  slang  which  he  had  been 
taught  to  expectorate  against  the  "  Yankees,"  —  Hyde  might 
have  lost  his  identity  in  the  mental  metamorphosis  he  was  un- 
dergoing, were  it  not  that  a  most  timely  substitute  presented 
itself  as  a  subject  for  the  expenditure  of  his  surplus  gas. 

Vance  had  collected  and  arranged  a  body  of  proofs  for  the 
establishment  of  Clara's  identification  as  the  daughter  of  Henry 
Berwick ;  but,  if  Colonel  Hyde's  memory  did  not  mislead  him, 
there  was  collateral  evidence  of  the  highest  importance  in  those 
old  letters  from  Charlton,  which  might  be  found  in  a  certain 
trunk  in  the  keeping  of  the  Widow  Rusk  in  Alabama.  With 
deep  anxiety,  therefore,  did  they  await  the  coming  of  that 
youthful  representative  of  the  Hyde  family,  Master  Delancy 
Hyde  Rusk. 

The  Colonel  stood  on  the  steps  of  the  Astor  House  from 
early  morn  till  dewy  eve,  day  after  day,  scrutinizing  every  boy 
who  came  along.  Clad  in  a  respectable  suit  of  broadcloth,  and 
conceahng  the  shorn  state  of  his  scalp  under  a  brown  wig,  he 
did  no  discredit  to  the  character  of  Mi'.  Stetson's  guests.  His 
patience  was  at  length  rewarded.  A  boy,  travel-soiled  and 
dusty,  apparently  fifteen  years  old,  di-essed  in  a  butternut-col- 
ored suit,  wearing  a  small  military  cap  marked  C.  S.  A.,  and 
bearing  a  knapsack  on  his  back,  suddenly  accosted  Colonel 
Hyde  with  the  inquiry,  "  Does  jMr.  William  C.  Vance  live 
here  ?  "  In  figure,  face,  and  even  the  hue  of  his  eyebrows,  the 
youth  was  a  miniature  repetition  of  the  Colonel  himself;  but 
the  latter,  in  his  wig  and  his  new.  suit,  was  not  recognized  till 
tlie  exclamation,  "  Delancy  ! "  broke  in  astonishment  from  his 
lips. 

"  What,  uncle  ?  Uncle  Delancy  ?  "  cried  the  boy ;  and  the 
two  forgot  the  proprieties,  and  embraced  in  the  very  eyes  of 
Broadway.     Then  the  Colonel  led  the  way  to  his  room. 

"  Is  this  'ere  room  yourn,  Uncle  D'lancy  ?  An'  is  this  'ere 
trunk  yourn  ?  And  this  'ere  umbrel  ?  Crikee !  What  a  fine 
trunk  !  And  do  you  and  the  damned  Yankees  bet  now  on  the 
same  pile,  Uncle  D'lancy  ?  " 


466  PECULIAR. 

"  Delancy  Hyde  Rusk,"  said  the  Colonel  solemnly,  "  stahnd 
up  thar  afore  me.  So !  That  '11  do  !  Now  look  me  straight 
in  the  face,  and  mind  what  I  say." 

"  Yes,  uncle,"  said  Delancy  junior,  deeply  impressed. 

"  Fust,  have  yer  got  them  air  letters  ?  " 

"Yes,  uncle,  they're  sewed  inter  my  side-pocket,  right 
here." 

"  Will  an'  good.  Now  tell  me  how 's  yer  mother  an'  all  tlie 
fanuly." 

"  Mother  's  middlin'  bright  now  ;  but  Malviny,  she  died  in  a 
fit  last  Mai'ch,  and  Tom,  the  innocent,  he  died  too ;  and  Char- 
lotte Ann,  she  was  buried  the  week  afore  your  letter  cum  ;  and 
mother,  she  had  about  gi'n  up  ;  for  we  had  n't  a  shinplaster  left 
after  payin'  for  the  buryin',  and  we  thowt  as  how  we  should 
have  ter  starve,  sure  ;  and  lame  Andrew  Jackson  and  the  two 
young  'uns,  they  wahr  lookin'  pretty  considerable  peakid,  I  kn 
tell  yer,  when  all  at  wunst  your  letter  cum  -svith  four  hunderd 
dollars  in  it.  Crikee  !  Did  n't  the  old  woman  scream  for  joy  ? 
Did  n't  she  hug  the  childern,  and  cry,  and  laugh,  and  take  on, 
till  we  all  thowt  she  was  crazy-^like  ?  And  did  n't  she  jounce 
down  on  her  knees,  and  pray,  jest  like  a  minister  does  ?  " 

*'  Did  she  ?  Did  she,  Delancy  ?  Tell  it  over  to  me  again. 
Did  she  raally  pray  ?  " 

"  I  reckon  she  did  n't  do  nothin'  else." 

"Try  ter  think  what  she  said,  Delancy.  Try  ter  think. 
It 's  important." 

"  Wal,  't  was  all  about  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  Brother  D'lancy, 
and  not  forsakin'  the  righteous,  and  bless  the  Lord,  O  my  soul, 
and  the  dear  angels  that  was  took  away,  and  then  about  Brother 
D'lancy  again,  and  might  the  Lord  put  his  everlastin'  arms 
about  him,  and  might  the  Lord  save  his  soul  alive,  and  all  that 
wild  sort  of  talk,  yer  know.  Why,  uncle !  Uncle  Dlancy ! 
What's  the  matter  with  yer?" 

Yes !  the  old  sinner  had  boo-hooed  outright ;  and  then,  cov- 
ing his  face  with  his  hands,  he  wept  as  if  he  were  making  up 
for  a  long  period  of  di'ought  in  the  lachrymal  line. 

We  have  spoken  of  the  influence  which  Vance  had  applied 
to  this  stony  nature.  We  should  have  spoken  of  other  influ- 
ences, perhaps  more  potent  still,  that  had  reached  it  through 


ANOTHER  DESCENDANT   OF   THE   CAVALIERS.  467 

Peek.  Before  the  exodus  from  New  Orleans,  Peek  had  intro- 
duced him  to  certain  phenomena  which  had  shaken  the  Colonel's 
very  soul,  by  the  proofs  they  gave  him  of  powers  transcending 
those  usually  ascribed  to  mortals,  or  admitted  as  possible  by 
science.  The  proofs  were  irresistible  to  his  common  sense, 
First,  That  there  was  a  power  outside  of  himself  that  could 
read,  not  only  his  inmost  nature,  but  his  individual  thoughts,  as 
they  arose,  and  this  without  any  aid  from  him  by  look,  word, 
or  act. 

Here  was  a  test  in  which  there  was  no  room  left  for  decep- 
tion. The  savans  can  only  explain  it  by  denying  it ;  and  there 
are  in  America  more  than  three  millions  of  men  and  women 
who  know  what  the  denial  amounts  to.  Given  a  belief  in 
clairvoyance,  and  that  in  spirits  and  immortality  follows.  The 
motto  of  the  ancient  Pagan  theists  was,  "  Si  divinatio  est,  dii 

SU7lt."  * 

Secondly,  Hyde  saw  heavy  physical  objects  moved  about, 
floated  in  the  aii-,  made  to  perform  intelligent  offices,  and  all 
without  the  intervention  of  any  agencies  recognized  as  mate- 
rial. 

The  hard,  cold  atheism  of  the  man's  heart  was  smitten,  rent, 
and  displaced.  For  the  first  time,  he  was  made  to  feel  that  the 
body's  death  is  but  a  process  of  transition  in  the  soul's  life ; 
that  our  trials  here  have  reference  to  a  future  world;  that 
what  we  love  we  become ;  that  heavenly  thoughts  must  be  en- 
tertained and  relished  even  here,  if  we  would  not  have  heaven's 
occupations  a  weariness  and  a  perplexity  to  us  hereafter.  For 
the  first  time,  the  awful  consciousness  came  over  him  as  a 
reality,  that  all  his  acts  and  thoughts  were  under  the  possible 
scrutiny  of  myriads  of  spiritual  eyes,  and,  above  them  all,  those 
Supreme  eyes  in  whose  sight  even  the  stars  are  not  pure,  — 
how  much  less,  then,  man  that  is  a  worm !  For  the  first  time, 
he  could  read  the  Bible,  and  catch  fi:om  its  mystic  w^ords  rich 
gleams  of  comforting  truth.  For  the  first  time,  he  could  feel 
the  meaning  of  that  abused  and  uncomprehended  word,  pardon  ; 
and  he  could  dimly  see  the  preciousness  of  Christ's  revelations 
of  the  Father's  compassion. 

Return  we  to  the  interview  between  uncle  and  nephew. 
*  If  there  is  divination  (clairvoyance),  there  must  be  gods  (spirits). 


468  PECULIAR. 

Having  wiped  his  eyes  and  steadied  his  voice,  the  Colonel 
said :  "  Delancy  Hyde  Rusk,  yer  've  got  ter  larn  some  thing?, 
and  unlam  others.  Fust  of  all,  you  're  not  to  swar,  never  no 
more." 

"  What,  Uncle  D'lancy  !     Can't  I  swar  when  I  grow  up  ? 
Toil  swar.  Uncle  D'lancy  ! " 

"  I  'm  clean  cured  of  it,  nevvy.  Ef  ever  you  har  me  swar 
again,  Delancy  Hyde  Rusk,  you  jes  tell  me  of  't,  an'  I  '11  put 
myself  through  a  month's  course  of  hard-tack  an'  water." 
"  Can't  I  say  hell,  Uncle  D'lancy,  nor  danm  ?  " 
"  You  're  not  ter  use  them  words  profanely,  nevvy,  unless 
you  want  that  air  back  of  youm  colored  up  with  a  rope's  end. 
Now  look  me  straight  in  the  face,  Delancy  Hyde  Rusk,  an'  tell 
me  ef  yer  ever  drink  sperrits  ?  " 

"  Wall,  Uncle  D'lancy,  I  promised  the  old  woman  — " 
"  Stop  !     Say  you  promised  mother." 

"  Wall,  I  promised  mother  I  would  n't  drink,  and  I  have  n't." 
"  Good !     Now,  nevvy,  yer  spoke  jest  now  of  the  Yankees. 
What  do  yer  mean  by  Yankees  ?  " 

"  I  mean,  uncle,  ev'ry  man  born  in  a  State  whar  they  hain't 
no  niggei^  to  wallop.    Yankees  are  sneaks  and  cowards.    Can't 
one  Suth'n-bom  man  whip  any  five  Yankees  ?  " 
"  I  reckon  not." 

«  What !  Not  ef  the  Suth'n  man  's  Virginia-bom  ?  " 
"  I  reckon  not.  Delancy  Hyde  Rusk,  that 's  the  decoy  the 
'ristocrats  down  South  have  been  humbuggin'  us  poor  whites 
with  tell  the  common  sense  is  all  eat  clean  out  of  our  brains. 
They  stuff  us  up  with  that  air  fool's  brag  so  we  may  help  'em 
hold  on  ter  thar  niggers.  Whar  did  the  Yankees  come  from  ? 
They  earned  from  England  like  we  did.  They  speak  English 
like  we  do.  Thar  ahnces'tors  an'  our  ahnces'tors  war  country- 
men. Now  don't  be  sich  a  lout  as  ter  suppose  that  'cause  a 
man  lives  North,  and  hain't  no  niggers  ter  wallop,  he  must  be 
either  a  sneak  or  a  coward,  or  what  Jeff  Davis  calls  a  hyena." 
"  Ain't  we  down  South  the  master  race.  Uncle  D'lancy  ?  " 
"  Wall,  nevvy,  in  some  respects  we  air ;  in  some  respects 
not.  In  dirt  an'  vennin,  ignorance  an'  sloth,  our  poor  folks  kn 
giv  thar  poor  folks  half  the  game,  an'  beat  'em  all  holler.  In 
brag  an'  swagger  our  rich  folks  kn  beat  thars.     But  I  '11  tell 


ANOTHER  DESCENDANT  OF  THE   CAVALIERS.  469 

yer  what  it  is,  nevvy :  ef,  a»  the  slaveholders  try  to  make  us 
think,  it  's  slavery  that  makes  us  the  master  race,  then  we 
must  be  powerful  poor  cattle  to  owe  it  to  niggers  and  not  to 
ou'selves  that  we  're  better  nor  the  Yankees.  Now  mind  what 
I  'm  goin'  ter  say :  the  best  thing  for  the  hull  Suth'n  people 
would  be  to  set  ev'ry  slave  free  right  off  at  wunst." 

"  What,  Uncle  D'lancy !  Make  a  nigger  free  as  a  white 
man  ?  Can't  I,  when  I  'm  a  man,  own  niggers  like  gra'f 'ther 
Hyde  done  ?  What 's  the  use  of  growin'  up  ef  I  can't  have  a 
nigger  to  wallop  when  I  want  ter,  I  sh'd  like  ter  know  ?  " 

"  Delancy  Hyde  Rusk,  them  sentiments  must  be  nipped  in 
the  bud." 

The  Colonel  went  to  the  door  and  locked  it,  then  cast  his 
eyes  round  the  room  as  if  in  search  of  something.  The  boy 
followed  his  movements  with  a  curiosity  in  which  alarm  began 
to  be  painfully  mingled.  Finally,  the  Colonel  pulled  a  strap 
from  his  trunk,  and,  approaching  Delancy  junior,  who  was  now 
uttering  a  noise  between  a  whimper  and  a  howl,  seized  him  by 
the  nape  of  the  neck,  bent  him  down  face  foremost  on  to  the 
bed,  and  administered  a  succession  of  smart  blows  on  the  most 
exposed  part  of  his  person.  The  boy  yelled  lustily  ;  but  after 
the  punishment  was  over,  he  quickly  subsided  into  a  subdued 
snuffling. 

"  Thai',  Delancy  Hyde  Rusk  !  yer  '11  thahnk  me  fur  that  air 
latherin'  all  the  days  of  yer  life.  Ef  I  'd  a-had  somebody  to 
do  as  much  for  me,  forty  yars  ago,  I  should  n't  have  been  the 
beast  that  Slavery  brung  me  up  ter  be.  Never  you  talk  no 
more  of  keepin'  niggers  or  wallopin'  niggers.  They've  jest 
as  much  right  ter  wallop  you  as  you  have  ter  wallop  them. 
Slavery's  gone  up,  sure.  That  game's  played  out.  Thank 
the  Lord  !  Jest  you  bar  in  mind,  Delancy  Hyde  Rusk,  that 
the  Lord  made  the  black  man  as  well  as  the  white,  and  that  ef 
you  go  fur  to  throw  contempt  on  the  Lord's  work,  he  '11  bring 
yer  up  with  a  short  turn,  sure.  Will  you  bar  that  in  mind  fur 
the  rest  of  yer  life,  Delancy  Hyde  Rusk  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Uncle  Dlancy.     I  woan't  do  nothin'  else." 

"  An'  ef  anybody  goes  fur  to  ask  yer  what  you  air,  jest  you 
speak  up  bright  an'  tell  him  you  're  fust  a  Union  man,  an'  then 
an  out-an'-out  Abolitionist.  Speak  it  out  bold  as  ef  you  meant 
it,  —  Ab-O'Utionist !  " 


470  PECULIAR. 

«  What,  uncle  !  a  d-d-da  — " 

The  boy's  utterance  subsided  into  a  whimper  of  expostida- 
tion  as  he  saw  the  Colonel  take  up  the  strap. 

But  he  was  spared  a  second  application.  Having  given  him 
his  first  lesson  in  morals  and  politics,  Colonel  Hyde  made  him 
wash  his  face,  and  then  took  him  downi-stairs  and  introduced 
him  to  Vance.  The  latter  received  with  eagerness  the  precious 
letters  of  which  the  boy  was  the  bearer ;  at  once  opened  tliem, 
and  having  read  them,  said  to  Hyde  :  ''  I  would  not  have  failed 
getting  these  for  many  thousand  dollars.  Still  there  's  no  know- 
ing what  trap  the  lawyers  may  spring  upon  us." 

Turning  to  Delancy  junior,  Vance,  who  had  opened  all  the 
windows  when  the  youth  came  in,  questioned  him  as  to  his 
adventures  on  his  journey.  The  boy  showed  cleverness  in  his 
replies.  It  was  a  proud  day  for  the  elated  Hyde  when  Vance 
said :  "  That  nephew  of  yours  shall  be  rewarded.  He  's  an 
uncommonly  shrewd,  observing  lad.  Now  take  him  down- 
stairs and  give  him  a  hot  bath.  Soak  him  well ;  then  scrub 
him  well  "with  soap  and  sand.  Let  him  put  on  an  entire  new 
rig,  —  shii-t,  stockings,  everj-thing.  You  can  buy  them  while 
he  's  rinsing  himself  in  a  second  water.  Also  take  him  to  the 
barber's  and  have  his  hair  cut  close,  combed  with  a  fine-tooth 
comb,  and  shampooed.  Do  this,  and  then  bring  him  up  to  my 
room  to  dinner.  Here  's  a  fifty-dollar  bill  for  you  to  spend  on 
him." 

Three  hours  afterwards  Delancy  junior  reappeai'ed,  too  much 
astonished  to  recognize  his  own  figiu'e  in  the  glass.  Colonel 
Hyde  had  thenceforth  a  new  and  abounding  theme  for  gascon- 
ade in  describing  the  way  "that  air  bi,  sir,  trahv'ld  the  hidl 
distance  from  Montgomery  ter  New  York,  goin'  through  the 
lines  of  both  armies,  sir,  an'  bringin'  val'able  letters  better  nor 
a  grown  man  could  have  did." 

A  dinner  at  Vance's  private  table,  with  ladies  and  gentle- 
men present,  put  the  apex  to  the  splendid  excitements  of  the 
day  in  the  minds  of  both  uncle  and  nephew. 


THE  NIGHT   COMETH.  471 


CHAPTER    XLVI. 

THE  NIGHT   COMETH. 

"  How  swift  the  shuttle  flies  that  weaves  thy  shroud  !  "  —  Young. 

ON  the  evening  of  the  day  of  the  encounter  in  Charlton's 
library,  some  of  the  principal  persons  of  our  story  were 
assembled  in  one  of  the  private  parlors  of  the  Astor  House  in 
New  York. 

Some  hours  previously,  Vance  had  introduced  Clara  to  her 
nearest  relatives,  the  Pompilards ;  but  before  telling  them  her 
true  name  he  had  asked  them  to  trace  a  resemblance.  Instantly 
Netty  had  exclaimed :  "  Why,  mother,  it  is  the  face  you  have 
at  home  in  the  portrait  of  Aunt  Leonora."  And  Aunt  Leonora 
was  the  grandmother  of  Clara  ! 

Vance  then  briefly  presented  his  proofs  of  the  relationship. 
Who  could  resist  them  ?  Pompilard,  in  a  high  state  of  excite- 
ment, put  his  hands  under  Clara's  arms,  lifted  her  to  a  level 
with  his  lips,  and  kissed  her  on  both  cheeks.  His  wife,  her 
grand-aunt,  greeted  her  not  less  affectionately ;  and  in  embra- 
cmg  "  Cousin  Netty,"  Clara  was  charmed  to  find  a  congenial 
associate. 

Pompilard  all  at  once  recollected  the  gold  casket  which  old 
Toussaint  had  committed  to  his  charge  for  Miss  Berwick. 
Writing  an  order,  he  got  Clara  to  sign  it,  and  then  strode  out 
of  the  room,  delighted  with  himself  for  remembering  the  trust. 
Half  an  hour  afterwards  he  returned  and  presented  to  his 
grand-niece  the  beautiful  jewel-box,  the  gift  of  her  father's 
step-mother,  Mrs.  Charlton.  Clara  received  it  with  emotion, 
and  divesting  it  of  the  cotton-wool  in  which  it  had  been  kept 
wrapped  and  untouched  so  many  years,  she  unlocked  it,  and 
drew  forth  this  letter  :  — 

"  My  dear  little  Granddaughter  :  This  comes  to  yon 
from  one  to  whom  you  seem  nearer  than  any  other  she  leaves 


472  PECULIAR. 

behind.  She  wishes  she  could  make  jou  wise  through  her 
experience.  Since  her  heart  is  full  of  it,  let  her  speak  it.  In 
that  event,  so  important  to  your  happiness,  your  marriage,  may 
you  be  warned  by  her  example,  and  neither  let  your  affections 
blind  your  reason,  nor  your  reason  underrate  the  value  of  the 
affections.  Be  sure  not  only  that  you  love,  but  that  you  are 
loved.  Choose  cautiously,  my  dear  child,  if  you  choose  at  all ; 
and  may  your  choice  be  so  felicitous  that  it  will  serve  for  the 
next  world  as  well  as  this.  E.  B.  C." 

The  Pompilards  remained  of  course  to  dinner ;  and  then 
to  the  expected  interview  of  the  evening.  They  were  intro- 
duced to  the  highly-dressed  bride,  Mrs.  Ripper,  formerly 
Clara's  teacher ;  also  to  the  quadroon  lady,  Madame  Yoliiey. 
And  then  the  gentlemen  —  Captain  Onslow,  Messrs.  "Winslow, 
Semmes,  and  Ripper,  and  la^t.  not  least,  Colonel  Delancy 
Hyde  and  his  nephew  —  were  all  severally  and  formally  pre- 
sented to  the  Pompilards. 

"  Does  it  appear  from  Charlton's  lettei-s  to  Hyde  that  Charl- 
ton knew  of  Hyde's  villany  in  kidnappmg  the  child?"  asked 
Mr.  Semmes  of  Vance. 

"No,  Charlton  was  unquestionably  ignorant,  and  is  so  to 
this  day,  of  the  fact  that  the  true  heir  survives.  All  that  he 
expected  Hyde  to  do  was  to  so  shape  h^  testimony  as  to  make 
it  appear  that  the  child  died  after  the  mother  and  before  the 
father.  On  this  nice  point  all  Charlton's  chances  hung.  And 
the  letters  are  of  the  highest  importance  in  showing  that  it  was 
intimated  by  the  writer  to  Hyde,  that,  in  case  his  testimony 
should  turn  out  to  be  of  a  certain  nature,  he,  Hyde,  besides 
having  his  and  Quattles's  expenses  to  New  York  all  paid, 
should  receive  a  thousand  dollars." 

"  That  is  certainly  a  tremendous  point  against  Charlton.  Is 
it  possible  that  Hyde  did  not  see  that  he  held  a  rod  over  Charl- 
ton in  those  letters  ?  " 

"  Both  he  and  Quattles  appear  to  have  been  very  shallow 
villains.  Probably  they  did  not  comprehend  the  legal  points 
at  issue,  and  never  realized  the  vital  importance  of  their  tes- 
timony." 

^'  Let  me  suggest,"  said  Semmes,  "  the  importance  of  having 
Charlton  recognize  Hyde  in  the  presence  of  A\ntnesse8." 


THE  NIGHT   COMETH.  473 

"  Yes,  I  had  thought  of  that,  and  arranged  for  it." 

Here  there  was  a  stir  in  the  little  unoccnpied  anteroom 
adjoining.  The  Charltons  and  Charlton's  lawyer,  Mr.  Det- 
ritch,  had  arrived.  The  ladies  were  removing  their  bon- 
nets and  shawls.  Hyde  drew  near  to  Vance,  and  the  latter 
threw  open  the  door.  Charlton  entered  first.  The  prospect 
of  recovering  his  New  Orleans  propej'ty  had  put  him  in  the 
most  gracious  of  humors.  His  dyed  hair,  his  white,  well- 
starched  vest,  his  glossy  black  dress-coat  and  pantaloons, 
sliowed  that  his  personal  appearance  was  receiving  more  than 
usual  attention.  He  would  have  been  called  a  handsome  man 
by  those  who  did  not  look  deep  as  Lavater. 

After  saluting  Vance,  Charlton  started  on  recognizing  the 
gaunt  figure  of  Delancy  Hyde.  Concluding  at  once  that  the 
Colonel  had  come  as  a  friend,  Charlton  exclaimed:  "What! 
My  old  friend.  Colonel  Delancy  Hyde  ?     Is  it  possible  ?  " 

And  there  was  a  vehement  shaking  of  hands  between  them. 

Detritch  and  the  ladies  having  entered,  all  the  parties  were 
formally  introduced  to  one  another.  The  mention  of  Miss 
Berwick's  name  excited  no  surprise  on  the  part  of  any  one. 

The  company  at  once  disposed  themselves  in  separate  groups 
for  conversation.  Captain  Onslow  gave  his  arm  to  Miss  Charl- 
ton, and  they  strolled  through  the  room  to  talk  of  ambulances, 
sanitary  commissions,  hospitals,  and  bullets  through  the  lungs. 
Pompilard,  who  declared  he  felt  only  eighteen  years  old  while 
looking  at  his  niece,  divided  his  delightful  attentions  between 
Madame  Volney  and  Mrs.  Ripper.  Clara  invited  Colonel 
Hyde  to  take  a  seat  near  her,  and  gave  him  such  comfort  as 
might  best  confirm  him  in  the  good  path  he  was  treading. 
Hyde  junior  looked  at  the  war  pictures  in  Harper's  Weekly. 
Winslow  and  Mrs.  Charlton  found  they  had  met  five  years  be- 
fore at  Saratoga,  and  were  soon  deep  in  their  recollections. 
Serames  and  Detritch  skirmished  like  two  old  roosters,  each 
afraid  of  the  other.  Ripper  made  himself  agreeable  to  Mrs. 
Pompilard  and  Netty,  by  talking  of  paintings,  of  which  he 
knew  something,  having  sold  them  at  auction.  Vance  took 
soundings  of  Charlton's  character,  and  found  that  rumor,  for 
once,  had  not  been  unjust  in  her  disparagement.  The  man's 
heai-t,  what  there  was  of  it,  was  in  his  iron  safe  with  his  cou- 
pons and  his  certificates  of  deposit. 


474  PECULIAR. 

Suddenly  Vance  went  to  the  piano,  and,  striking  some  of 
the  loud  keys,  attracted  the  attention  of  the  company,  and  then 
begged  them  to  be  silent  while  he  made  a  few  remarks.  The 
hum  of  conversation  was  instantly  hushed. 

"  We  are  assembled,  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  on 
business  in  which  Mr.  Cliarlton  here  present  is  deeply  inter- 
ested." 

IVIr.  Charlton,  who  occupied  an  arm-chair,  and  had  Detritch 
on  his  right,  bowed  his  acknowledgments. 

"  If,"  continued  Vance,  "  I  have  not  communicated  privately 
to  Mr.  Charlton,  or  his  respectable  counsel,  all  the  startling 
and  important  facts  beaiing  on  the  case,  I  hope  they  will 
understand  that  it  was  not  through  any  failure  of  respect  for 
them,  and  especially  for  Mrs.  and  Miss  Charlton,  but  simply 
because  I  have  thought  it  right  to  choose  the  course  which 
seemed  to  me  the  most  proper  in  serving  the  cause  of  justice 
and  of  the  party  whose  interests  I  represent." 

Charlton  and  Detritch  looked  at  each  other  inquiringly, 
and  the  look  said,  "  What  is  he  driving  at  ? " 

The  amiable  bride  (]Mrs.  Ripper)  touched  Pompilard  coquet- 
tishly  with  her  fan,  and,  pointing  to  Chai-lton,  whispered,  "  O, 
won't  he  be  come  up  with?" 

"  No  imiocent  man,"  continued  Vance,  "  will  think  it  ever 
untimely  to  be  told  that  he  is  holding  what  does  not  belong  to 
him ;  that  he  has  it  in  his  power  to  rectify  a  great  wrong ;  to 
make  just  restitution.  On  the  table  here  under  my  hand  are 
certain  documents.  This  which  I  hold  up  is  a  certified  printed 
copy  of  the  great  Trial,  by  the  issue  of  which  JVlr.  Charlton, 
here  present,  came  into  possession  of  upwards  of  a  million  of 
dollars,  derived  from  the  estate  of  the  brother  of  one  of  the 
ladies  now  before  me.  It  appears  from  the  judge's  printed 
charge  (see  page  127)  on  the  Trial,  that  the  essential  testimony 
in  the  case  was  that  given  by  one  Delancy  Hyde  and  one 
Leonidas  Quattles.  With  the  former,  jMr.  Charlton  has  here 
renewed  his  acquaintance.  ISIr.  Quattles  died  some  months 
since,  but  we  here  have  his  deposition,  duly  attested,  taken  just 
before  his  death." 

"What  has  aU  this  to  do  with  my  property  in  New  Or- 
leans ? "  exclaimed  Charlton,  thoroughly  mystified. 


THE  NIGHT  COMETH.  475 

"  Be  patient,  sir,  and  you  will  see.  The  verdict,  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  turned  upon  tlie  question  whether,  on  the  occasion 
of  the  explosion  of  the  Pontiac,  the  child,  Clara,  or  her  father, 
Henry  Berwick,  died  first.  The  testimony  of  Messrs.  Hyde 
and  Quattles  was  to  the  effect  that  the  child  died  fij'st.  But  it 
now  appears  that  the  father  died  —  " 

"  A  lie  and  a  trick ! "  shouted  Charlton,  starting  up  with  fea- 
tures pale  and  convulsed  at  once  with  terror  and  with  rage. 
"A  trick  for  extorting  money.  Any  simpleton  might  see 
through  it.  Have  we  been  brought  here  to  be  insulted,  sir  ? 
You  shall  be  indicted  for  a  conspiracy.  'T  is  a  case  for  the 
grand  jury,  —  eh,  Detritch  ?  " 

"  My  advice  to  you,  Mr.  Charlton,"  said  Detritch,  "  is  to  turn 
this  gentleman  over  to  me,  and  to  refuse  to  listen  yourself  to 
anything  further  he  may  have  to  say." 

In  this  advice  Charlton  snuffed,  as  he  thought,  the  bad  odor 
of  a  fee,  and  he  determined  not  to  be  guided  by  it.  Laughing 
scornfully,  he  said,  resuming  his  seat :  "  Let  the  gentleman  play 
out  his  farce.  He  hopes  to  show,  does  he,  that  the  child  died 
after  the  father !  " 

"  No,  ladies  and  gentleman,"  said  Vance,  crossing  the  room, 
taking  Clara  by  the  hand,  and  leading  her  forth,  "  what  I  have 
to  show  is,  that  she  did  n't  die  at  all,  and  that  Clara  Aylesford 
Berwick  now  stands  before  you." 

Charlton  rose  half-way  from  his  chair,  the  arms  of  which  he 
grasped  as  if  to  keep  himself  from  sinking.  His  features  were 
ghastly  in  their  expression  of  mingled  amazement  and  indigna- 
tion, coupled  with  a  horrible  misgiving  of  the  truth  of  the  dis- 
closure, to  which  Vance's  assured  manner  and  the  affirmative 
presence  of  Colonel  Hyde  gave  their  dreadful  support.  Charl- 
ton struggled  to  speak,  but  failed,  and  sank  back  in  his  chair, 
while  Detritch,  after  having  tried  to  compose  his  client,  rose 
and  said :  "  In  my  legal  capacity  I  must  protest  against  this 
most  irregular  and  insidious  proceeding,  intended  as  it  obviously 
is  to  throw  my  client  and  myself  off  our  guard,  and  to  produce 
an  alarm  wliich  may  be  used  to  our  disadvantage." 

"  Sir,"  replied  Vance,  "  you  entirely  misapprehend  my  object. 
It  is  not  to  your  feai's,  but  to  your  manhood  and  your  sense  of 
justice  that  I  have  thought  it  right  to  make  my  first  appeal.    I 


476  PECULIAR. 

propose  to  prove  to  you  by  facts,  which  no  sane  maii  can  resist, 
that  the  young  lady  whose  hand  I  hold  is  the  veritable  Miss 
Berwick,  to  whom  her  mother's  estate  belonged,  and  to  whom 
it  must  now  be  restored,  with  interest." 

"  With  interest !  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  "  cried  Charlton,  with  a  flight- 
ful  attempt  at  a  merriment  which  his  pale  cheeks  belied. 

"  There  will  be  time,"  continued  Vance,  "  for  the  scrutiny  of 
the  law  hereafter.  I  court  it  to  the  fullest  extent.  But  I  have 
thought  it  due  to  Mr.  Charlton,  to  give  him  the  opportunity  to 
show  his  disposition  to  right  a  great  wrong,  in  the  event  of  my 
proving,  as  I  can  and  will,  that  this  lady  is  the  person  I  pro- 
claim her  to  be,  the  veritable  Miss  Berwick." 

Moved  by  that  same  infatuation  which  compels  a  giddy  man 
to  look  over  the  precipice  which  is  luring  him  to  jump,  Charl- 
ton, with  a  deplorable  affectation  of  composure,  wiped  the  per- 
spiration from  his  brow,  and  said :  "  Well,  sir,  bring  on  these 
proofs  that  you  pretend  are  so  irresistible.  I  think  we  can 
afford  to  hear  them,  —  eh,  Detritch  ?  " 

"  First,"  said  Vance,  "  I  produce  the  confession  of  Hyde, 
here  present,  and  of  Quattles,  deceased,  that  the  infant  child 
of  !Mr.  Berwick  was  saved  by  them  from  the  wreck  of  the  Pon- 
tiac,  taken  to  New  Orleans,  and  sold  at  auction  as  a  slave. 
The  auctioneer,  INlr.  Richard  Ripper,  is  here  present,  and  will 
testify  that  he  sold  the  child  to  Carberry  Ratcliff,  whose  late 
attorney,  T.  J.  Semmes.  Esq.,  is  here  present,  and  can  identify 
Miss  Berwick  as  the  child  bought,  according  to  Ratcliff 's  own 
admission,  from  the  said  Ripper.  Then  we  have  the  testimony 
of  INIrs.  Ripper,  lately  Mi-s.  Gentry,  by  whom  the  child  was 
brought  up,  and  of  Esha,  her  housemaid,  both  of  whom  are 
now  in  this  house.  We  have  forther  strong  collateral  testi- 
mony from  Hattie  Davj,  now  in  this  house,  the  nurse  who  had 
the  child  in  charge  at  the  time  of  the  accident,  and  who  identi- 
fies her  by  the  marks  on  her  pei-son,  especially  by  her  different 
colored  eyes,  —  a  mark  which  I  also  can  corroborate.  We 
have  articles  of  clothing  and  jewels  bearing  the  child's  initials, 
to  the  reception  and  keeping  of  which  Mrs.  Ripper  and  Esha 
will  testify,  and  which,  when  unsealed,  will  no  doubt  be  sworn 
to  by  Mrs.  Davy  as  having  belonged  to  the  child  at  the  time  of 
the  explosion." 


THE  NIGHT   COMETH.  477 

"Well,  sir,"  said  Mi*.  Detritch,  with  a  sarcastic  smile,  "I 
think  Brother  Semmes  will  admit  that  all  this  doesn't  make 
out  a  case.  Unless  you  can  bring  some  proof  (which  I  know 
you  cannot)  of  improper  influences  being  applied  by  my  client 
to  induce  his  chief  witnesses  to  give  the  testimony  they  did, 
you  can  make  little  headway  in  a  court  of  law  against  a  party 
who  is  fortified  in  what  he  holds  by  more  than  fourteen  years 
of  possession." 

"  Even  on  this  point,  sir,"  rephed  Vance,  "  we  are  not  weak. 
Here  are  five  original  lettei-s,  with  their  envelopes,  postage- 
marks,  &c.,  all  complete,  from  Mr.  Charlton  to  Colonel  Delancy 
Hyde,  offering  him  and  his  accomplice  their  expenses  and  a 
thousand  dollars  if  they  will  come  on  to  New  York  and  testify 
in  a  certain  way.  Here  also  are  letters  showing  that,  in  the 
case  of  a  colored  woman  named  Jacobs,  decoyed  from  Mon- 
treal back  into  slavery,  the  writer  conducted  himself  in  a 
manner  which  will  afford  corroborative  proof  that  he  was  capa- 
ble of  doing  what  these  other  letters  show  that  he  did  or  at- 
tempted." 

As  Vance  spoke,  he  held  one  of  the  letters  so  that  Charlton 
could  read  it.  The  latter,  while  affecting  not  to  look,  read 
enough  to  be  made  aware  of  its  purport.  His  fingers  worked 
so  to  clutch  it,  that  Detritch  pulled  him  by  the  coat ;  and  then 
Charlton,  starting  up,  exclaimed :  "  I  '11  not  stay  here  another 
moment  to  be  insulted.  This  is  a  conspii-acy  to  swindle.  Come 
along,  Detritch.     Come,  Mrs.  Charlton  and  Lucy." 

He  passed  out.  Detiitch  offered  liis  arm  to  Mrs.  Charlton. 
She  declined  it,  and  he  left  the  room.  There  was  an  interval 
of  silence.  Every  one  felt  sympathy  for  the  two  ladies.  Mrs. 
Charlton  approached  Vance,  and  said,  "  Will  you  allow  me  to 
examine  those  letters  ? " 

"  Certainly,  madam,"  he  replied. 

She  took  them  one  by  one,  scrutinized  the  handwriting,  read 
them  carefully,  and  returned  them  to  Vance.  She  then  asked 
the  privilege  of  a  private  conference  with  Hyde,  and  the  Colo- 
nel accompanied  her  into  the  anteroom.  This  interview  was 
followed  by  one,  first  with  Mrs.  Ripper,  then  with  Mr.  Winslow, 
then  with  Esha  and  IVIrs.  Davy,  and  finally  with  Clara.  Dur- 
ing the  day  Pompilard  had  sent  home  for  a  photograph-book 


478  PECULIAR. 

containing  likenesses  of  Clara's  father,  mother,  and  maternal 
grandmother.  These  were  placed  in  Mrs.  Charlton's  hands.  A 
glance  satisfied  her  of  the  family  resemblance  to  the  supposed 
child. 

Re-entering  the  parlor  ]Mi*s.  Charlton  said  :  "  Friends,  there 
is  no  escape  that  I  can  see  from  the  proofs  you  offer  that  this 
young  lady  is  indeed  Clara  Aylesford  Bermck.  Be  sure  it 
will  not  be  my  fault  if  slie  is  not  at  once  instated  in  her  rights. 
I  bid  you  all  good  evening." 

And  then,  escorted  by  Cai)tain  Onslow,  she  and  her  daughter 
took  their  leave,  and  the  company  broke  up. 

Charlton,  impatient,  had  quitted  the  hotel  with  Detritch  and 
sent  back  the  carriage.  They  were  closeted  in  the  library 
when  ]\Irs.  Charlton  and  Lucy  returned.  The  unloving  and 
unloved  wife,  but  tender  mother,  kissed  her  daughter  for  good- 
night and  retired  to  her  own  sleeping-room.  She  undi-essed 
and  went  to  bed ;  but  not  being  able  to  sleep,  rose,  put  on  a  light 
rohe  de  chamhre,  and  sat  down  to  read.  About  two  o'clock  in 
the  morning  she  heard  the  front  door  close  and  a  carriage  drive 
off.     Detritch  had  then  gone  at  last ! 

Charlton's  sleeping-room  was  on  the  other  side  of  the  entry- 
way  opposite  to  his  ^vife's.  She  threw  open  her  door  to  hear 
him  when  he  should  come  up  to  bed.  She  waited  anxiously  a 
full  hour.  She  began  to  gi-ow  nervous.  Void  as  her  heart 
was  of  affection  for  her  husband,  sometiiing  like  pity  crept  in 
as  she  recalled  his  look  of  anguish  and  alarm  at  Vance's  dis- 
closures. Ah !  is  it  not  sad  when  one  has  to  despise  while  one 
pities !  "  Shall  I  not  go,  and  try  to  cheer  him  ? "  she  asked 
herself.  Hopeless  task !  ^Vhat  cheer  could  she  give  unless 
she  went  Avith  a  lie,  telling  him  that  Vance's  startling  revela- 
tion was  all  a  trick ! 

The  laggard  moments  crept  on.  Though  the  gas  was  put  up 
bright  and  flaring,  she  could  not  have  so  shivered  with  a  name- 
less horror  if  she  had  been  alone  in  some  charael-house,  lighted 
only  by  pale,  phosphoric  gleams  from  dead  men's  bones. 

But  why  did  not  Charlton  come  up  ? 

The  wind,  which  had  been  rising,  blew  back  a  blind,  and 
swept  with  a  mom-nful  whistle  through  the  trees  in  the  area. 
Then  it  throbbed  at  the  casement  like  a  living  heart  that  had 
something  to  reveal. 


THE  NIGHT  COMETH.  479 

Why  does  he  not  come  up  ? 

Why  not  go  down  and  see  ? 

Though  the  entry-ways  and  the  stairs  were  lighted,  it  seemed 
a  frightful  undertaking  to  traverse  them  as  far  as  the  library. 
Still  she  would  do  it.  She  darted  out,  placed  her  hand  on  the 
broad  black-walnut  balustrade,  and  stepped  slowly  down, — 
down,  —  down  the  broad,  low,  thickly  carpeted  stairs. 

At  last  she  stood  on  one  of  the  spacious  square  landings. 

What  terrible  silence !  Not  even  the  rattle  of  an  early 
milk-cart  through  the  streets  !  Heavenly  Powers !  Why  this 
unaccountable  pressure,  as  of  some  horrid  incubus,  upon  her 
mind,  so  that  every  thought  as  it  wandered,  try  as  she  might  to 
control  it,  would  stop  short  at  a  tomb  ?  She  recoiled.  She 
drew  back  a  step  or  two  up,  —  up  the  stairs.  And  then,  at 
that  very  moment,  there  was  a  dull,  smothered,  explosive  sound 
which  smote  like  a  hand  on  her  heart.  She  sank  powerless  on 
the  stairs,  and  sat  there  for  some  minutes,  gasping,  horror- 
stricken,  helpless. 

Then  rallying  her  strength  she  rushed  up  three  flights  to  the 
room  of  Fletcher,  the  man-servant,  and  bade  him  dress  quickly 
and  come  to  her.  He  obeyed,  and  the  two  descended  to  the 
library. 

Through  the  glass  window  of  the  door  the  gas  shone  bright- 
ly. Fletcher  entered  first;  and  his  cry  of  alarm  told  the 
whole  tragic  tale.  Mrs.  Charlton  followed,  gave  one  look,  and 
fell  senseless  on  the  floor. 

Leaning  back  in  his  arm-chair,  —  his  head  erect,  —  his  eyes 
open  and  staring,  —  sat  Charlton.  On  his  white  vest  a  crim- 
son stain  was  beginning  to  spread  and  spread,  and,  higher  up, 
the  cloth  was  blackened  as  if  by  fire.  The  vase-like  ornament 
which  had  attracted  Pompilard's  attention  on  the  library  table 
had  been  drawn  forth  from  its  socket,  and  the  pistol  it  concealed 
having  been  discharged,  it  lay  on  the  floor,  while  Charlton's 
right  hand,  as  it  hung  over  the  arm  of  the  chair,  pointed  to  the 
deadly  weapon  as  if  in  mute  accusation  of  its  instrumentality. 


480  PECULIAR. 


CHAPTER    XLVII. 

AN  AUTUMNAL  VISIT. 

"  Why  linger,  why  turn  back,  why  shrink,  my  heart  ? 
Thy  hopes  have  gone  before  -.  from  all  things  here 
They  have  departed  ;  thou  shouldst  now  depart."  —  Shelley. 

THE  defunct  having  left  no  will,  administrators  of  his  estate 
were  appointed.  These  deemed  it  proper  to  be  guided 
by  the  wishes  of  the  widow  and  the  daughter,  notwithstandmg 
the  latter  was  still  a  minor.  Those  wishes  were,  that  the  iden- 
tification of  ]Miss  Berwick,  conclusive  as  it  was,  should  be 
frankly  admitted,  and  her  property,  with  its  accumulated  inter- 
est, restored  to  her  without  a  contest. 

There  was  a  friendly  hearing  in  chambers,  before  the  probate 
and  other  judges.  The  witnesses  were  all  carefully  examined ; 
the  contents  of  the  sealed  package  in  the  little  trunk  were  iden- 
tified ;  and  at  last,  in  accordance  with  high  legal  and  judicial 
approval,  the  vast  estate,  constituting  nearly  two-thirds  of  the 
amount  left  by  Charlton,  was  transferred  to  trustees  to  be  held 
till  Clara  should  be  of  age.  And  thus  finally  did  Vance  carry 
his  point,  and  establish  the  rights  of  the  orphan  of  the  Pontiac 

It  was  on  a  warm,  pleasant  day  in  the  last  week  of  Septem- 
ber. 1862,  that  he  called  to  take  leave  of  her. 

Little  more  than  an  hour's  drive  beyond  the  Central  Park 
brought  him  to  a  private  avenue,  at  the  stately  gate  of  which 
he  found  children  playing.  One  of  these  was  a  cripple,  who, 
as  he  darted  round  on  his  little  crutch,  chasing  or  being  chased, 
seemed  the  embodiment  of  Joy  exercising  under  difficulties. 
His  name  was  Andrew  Rusk.  An  old  colored  woman  who  was 
carrying  a  basket  of  fruit  to  some  invalid  in  the  neighborhood, 
stopped  and  begged  Andrew  not  to  break  his  neck.  Vance,  rec- 
ognizing Esha,  asked  if  Clara  was  at  home. 

"  Yes,  Massa  Vance  ;  she  11  be  powerful  glad  to  see  yer." 

WMle  Vance  is  waiting  in  a  large  and  lofty  drawing-room 


AN  AUTUMNAL  VISIT.  481 

for  her  appearance,  let  us  review  some  of  the  incidents  that 
have  transpired  since  we  encountered  her  last. 

One  of  Cl.ira's  first  acts,  on  being  put  in  j^artial  possession 
of  her  ancestral  estate,  had  been  to  present  her  aunt  Pompilard 
with  a  furnished  house,  retaining  for  herself  the  freedom  of  a 
few  rooms.  The  house  stood  on  a  broad,  picturesque  semi- 
circle of  rocky  table-land,  that  protruded  like  a  huge  bracket 
from  a  pleasant  declivity,  partly  wooded,  in  view  of  the  Pab'- 
sades  of  the  Hudson.  The  grounds  inchided  acres  enough  to 
satisfy  the  most  aspiring  member  of  the  Horticultural  Society. 
The  house,  also,  was  sufficiently  spacious,  not  only  for  present, 
but  for  prospective  grandchildren  of  the  Pompilard  stock.  To 
the  young  Iretons  and  Purlings  it  was  a  blessed  change  from 
Lavinia  Street  to  this  new  place. 

Amid  these  sylvan  scenes,  —  these  green  declivities  and 
dimpling  hollows,  —  these  gardens  beautiful,  and  groves  and 
orchards,  —  the  wounded  Major  and  aspiring  author,  Cecil 
Purling,  grew  rapidly  convalescent.  The  moment  it  was  un- 
derstood in  fashionable  circles  that,  through  Clara's  access  to 
fortune,  he  stood  no  longer  in  need  of  help,  subscribers  to  his 
history  poured  in  not  merely  by  dozens,  but  by  hundreds.  He 
soon  had  confirmation  made  doubly  sure  that  he  should  have 
the  glorious  privilege  of  being  independent  thi'ough  his  own 
unaided  efforts.  This  time  there  is  no  danger  that  he  will  ruin 
a  publisher.  The  work  proceeds.  On  your  library  shelf,  O 
friendly  reader,  please  leave  a  vacant  space  for  six  full-sized 
duodecimos ! 

Pompilard's  first  great  dinner,  on  being  settled  in  his  new 
home,  was  given  in  honor  of  the  Maloneys.  In  reply  to  tlie 
written  invitation,  Maloney  wrote,  "  The  beggarly  Irish  tailor 
accepts  for  himself  and  family."  On  entering  the  house,  he 
asked  a  private  interview  with  Pompilard,  and  thereupon  bul  - 
lied  him  so  far,  that  the  old  man  signed  a  solemn  pledge  abjui- 
ing  Wall  Street,  and  all  financial  operations  of  a  speculative 
character  thenceforth  forever. 

The  dinner  was  graced  by  the  presence  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Ripper,  both  of  them  now  furious  Abolitionists,  and  proud  of 
the  name.  The  lady  was  at  last  emphatically  of  the  opinion 
that  "  Slavery  will  be  come  up  with." 

21  EB 


482  PKCULIAR. 

Clara  had  Esha  and  Hattie  to  wait  on  lier,  though  rather  in 
the  capacity  of  fi-iends  tlian  of  servants.  Having  got  from 
Mrs.  Ripper  a  careful  estimate  of  the  amount  paid  by  Ratcliff 
for  the  support  and  education  of  his  putative  slave,  Clara  had 
it  i-epaid  with  interest.  The  money  came  to  him  most  accei>t- 
ahly.  His  large  investments  in  slaves  had  ruined  him.  His 
"maid-servants  and  man-servants"*  had  flocked  to  the  old  flag 
and  found  freedom.  A  piteous  communication  from  him  ap- 
peared on  the  occasion  in  the  Richmond  Whig.  TVe  quote 
from  it  a  single  passage. 

"  Wliat  contributed  most  to  my  mortification  was,  that  in  my 
whole  gang  of  slaves,  among  whom  there  were  any  amount  of 
Aarons,  Abrahams,  Isaacs,  (ind  Jacobs,  there  was  not  one  Ab- 
diel,  —  not  one  remained  loyal  to  the  Rebel." 

The  philosophical  editor,  in  his  comments,  endeavored  to 
shield  his  beloved  slavery  from  inferential  prejudice,  and  said : 

"  The  escaped  slave  is  ungrateful ;  therefore,  slavery  is 
wrong !  Children  are  often  ungratefiil ;  does  it  follow  that 
the  relation  of  parent  and  child  is  wrong  ?  "  t 

Could  even  Mr.  Carlyle  hav^e  put  it  more  cogently  ? 

The  money  received  by  Clara  from  Mrs.  Ratcliff's  private 
estate  was  all  appropriated  to  the  establishment  of  an  institu- 
tion in  New  Orleans  for  the  education  of  the  children  of  freed 
slaves.  To  this  fund  Madame  Yolney  not  only  added  from 
her  own  legacy,  but  she  went  back  to  New  Orleans  to  superin- 
tend the  initiation  of  the  humane  and  important  enterprise. 

"  Into  each  life  some  rain  must  fall."  The  day  after  the 
dimier  to  the  Maloneys  intelligence  came  of  the  death  of 
Captain  Ireton.  He  had  been  hung  by  the  fierce  slaveocracy 
at  Richmond  as  a  spy.  It  was  asserted  that  he  had  joined  the 
Rebel  Engineer  Corps,  at  Island  Number  Ten,  to  obtain  infor- 
mation for  the  United  States.  However  this  may  have  been, 
it  is  certain  he  ivas  not  captured  in  the  capacity  of  a  spy  ;  and 
every  one  acquainted  with  the  usages  of  civilized  warfare  will 
recognize  the  atrocity  of  hanging  a  man  on  the  ground  that  he 
had  formerly  acted  as  a  spy.     The  Richmond  papers  palliated 

*  See  Mr.  Jefferson  Davis's  proclamation  for  a  fast,  ^larch,  18&3. 

t  These  quotations  are  genuine,  as  many  newspaper  readers  will  recollect. 


AN  AUTUMNAL   VISIT.  483 

the  murder  by  saying  Ireton  had  "  confessed  himself  to  be  a 
spy."  As  if  any  judicial  tribunal  would  hang  a  man  on  his 
own  confession !  "  Would  you  make  me  bear  testimony 
against  myself?"   said  Joan  of  Arc  to  her  judges. 

Much  to  the  disgust  of  the  pro-slavery  leaders,  who  had 
counted  on  a  display  of  that  cowardice  which  they  had  taught 
the  Southern  people  to  regard  as  inseparable  from  Yankee 
blood,  Ireton  met  his  death  cheerily,  as  a  bridegroom  would  go 
forth  to  take  the  hand  of  his  beloved.*  It  reminded  them  un- 
pleasantly of  old  John  Brown. 

"  Whether  on  the  gallows  high 
Or  in  the  battle's  van, 
The  fittest  place  for  man  to  die 
Is  where  he  die^or  man." 

The  news  of  Ireton's  death  was  mentioned  by  Captain  On- 
slow while  making  a  morning  call  on  Miss  Charlton.  Her 
mother  had  dressed  herself  to  drive  out  on  some  visits  of  char- 
ity. As  she  was  passing  through  the  hall  to  her  carriage,  Lucy 
called  her  into  the  drawing-room  and  communicated  the  report. 
The  widow  turned  deadly  pale,  and  left  the  room  without 
speaking.  She  gave  up  her  drive  for  that  day,  and  commis- 
sioned Lucy  to  fulfil  the  beneficent  errands  she  had  planned. 
Captain  Onslow  begged  so  hard  to  be  permitted  to  accompany 
Lucy,  that,  after  a  brief  consultation  between  mother  and 
daughter,  consent  was  given. 

Thus  are  Nature  and  Human  Life  ever  offering  their  tragic 
contrasts !  Here  the  withered  leaf;  and  there,  under  the  de- 
caying mould,  the  green  germ !  Here  Grief,  finding  its  home 
in  the  stricken  Jieart ;  and  there  thou,  O  Hope,  w^ith  eyes  so 
fair! 

*  The  case  seems  to  have  been  precisely  parallel  to  that  of  Spencer  Kel- 
logg Brown,  hung  in  Richmond,  September  25th,  1863,  as  a  spy.  On  the 
18th  of  that  month,  Brown  told  the  Rev.  William  G.  Scandlin  of  Massachu- 
setts (see  the  latter's  published  letter),  that  they  had  kept  him  there  in  pris- 
on "  until  all  his  evidence  had  been  sent  aicay,  allowed  him  hut  fifteen  hours  to 
])repare  for  his  defence,  and  denied  him  the  privilege  of  counsel.''  Brown  was 
captured  by  guerillas,  not  while  he  was  acting  as  a  spy,  but  while  returning 
from  destroying  a  rebel  ferry-boat  near  Port  Hudson,  which  he  had  done  un- 
der the  order  of  Captain  Porter.  The  hanging  of  this  man  was  as  shame- 
less a  murder  as  was  ever  perpetrated  by  Thugs.  But  Slavery,  disappointed 
in  the  hanging  of  Captains  Sawyer  and  Flynn,  was  yelling  lustily  for  a  Yan- 
kee to  hang;  and  Jeflf  Davis  was  not  mau  enough  to  say  "  No." 


484  PECULIAR. 

Colonel  Delaney  lijde  speedily  had  an  opportunity  of  show- 
ing the  sincerity  of  his  conversion,  political  and  moral.  He 
went  into  the  fight  at  South  Mountain,  and  was  by  the  side  of 
General  Reno  when  that  loyal  and  noble  officer  (Virginia- 
born)  fell  mortally  wounded.  For  gallant  conduct  on  that 
occasion  Hyde  was  put  on  General  Mansfield's  staff,  and  saw 
him,  too,  fall,  three  days  after  Reno,  in  the  great  fight  at  An- 
tietam.  On  this  occasion  Hyde  lost  a  leg,  but  had  the  satis- 
faction of  seeing  his  nephew,  Delaney  junior,  come  out 
unscathed,  and  with  the  promise  of  promotion  for  gallantry 
in  carrying  the  colors  of  the  regiment  after  three  successive 
bearers  had  been  shot  dead. 

Hyde  was  presented  with^  wooden  leg,  of  which  he  was 
quite  proud.  But  the  great  event  of  his  life  was  the  establish- 
ment of  his  sister,  the  Widow  Rusk,  with  her  childi-en,  in  a 
comfortable  cottage  on  the  outskirts  of  Pompjlard's  grounds, 
where  the  family  were  well  provided  for  by  Clara.  Here  on 
the  piazza,  looking  out  on  the  river,  the  Coloiiel  played  M'ith 
the  children,  watched  the  boats,  and  read  the  newspapers. 
Perhaps  one  of  the  profoundest  of  his  emotions  was  experi- 
enced the  day  he  saw  in  one  of  the  pictorial  papers  a  picture 
of  Delaney  junior,  bearing  a  flag  riddled  by  bullets.  But  the 
Colonel's  heart  felt  a  redoubled  thrill  when  he  read  the  follow- 
ing pai'agraph :  — 

"  This  young  and  gallant  color-bearer  is,  we  learn,  a  descend- 
ant of  an  illustrious  Virginia  family,  his  ancestor,  Delaney 
Hyde,  having  come  over  with  the  first  settlers.  Nobly  has  the 
youth  adhered  to  the  traditions  of  the  Wasliingtons  and  the 
Madisons.  His  uncle,  the  brave  Colonel  Hyde,  was  one  of 
the  severely  wounded  in  the  late  battle." 

The  Colonel  did  not  faint,  but  he  came  nearer  to  it  than 
ever  before  in  his  life. 

Can  the  Ethiopian  change  his  skin  ?  It  has  generally  been 
thought  not.  But  there  was  certainly  an  element  of  grace  in 
Hyde  which  now  promised  to  bleach  the  whole  moral  com- 
plexion of  the  man ;  and  that  element,  though  but  as  a  grain 
of  mustard-seed,  was  love  for  his  sister  and  her  offspring. 

IVIr.  Semmes  was  glad  to  receive,  as  the  recompense  for  his 
services,  the  exemption  of  certain  property  from  confiscation. 


AN  AUTUMNAL  VISIT.  485 

At  their  parting  interview  Vance  ingenuously  told  him  he  con- 
sidered him  a  scoundrel.  Semmes  did  n't  see  it  in  that  light, 
and  entered  into  a  long  argument  to  prove  that  he  had  done  no 
wrong.  Vance  listened  patiently,  and  said  in  reply,  "  Do  you 
perceive  an  ill  odor  of  dead  rats  in  the  wall?"  Semmes 
snuffed,  and  then  answered,  "Indeed  I  don't  perceive  any  bad 
smell."  "  I  do^'  said  Vance ;  "  good  by,  sir ! "  And  that  was 
the  end  of  their  acquaintance. 

But  it  is  in  the  track  of  Vance  and  Clara  that  we  promised 
to  conduct  the  reader.  Clara  had  proposed  a  ramble  over  the 
grounds.  Never  had  she  appeared  so  radiant  in  Vance's  eyes. 
It  was  not  her  dress,  for  that  was  rather  plain,  though  perfect 
in  its  adaptedness  to  the  season  and  the  scene.  It  was  not 
that  jaunty  little  hat,  hiding  not  too  much  of  her  soft,  thick 
hair.  But  the  climate  of  her  ancestral  North  seemed  to  have 
added  a  new  sparkle  and  gloss  to  her  beauty.  And  then  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  Vance  showed  itself  so  unreservedly  in  her 
face ! 

They  strolled  through  the  well-appointed  garden,  and  Vance 
was  glad  to  see  that  Clara  had  a  genuine  love  of  flowers  and 
fruits,  and  could  name  all  the  varieties,  distinguishing  with 
quick  perception  the  slightest  differences  of  form  and  hue.  In 
the  summer-house,  overlooking  the  majestic  river,  and  sur- 
rounded, though  not  too  much  shaded,  by  birches,  oaks,  and 
pines,  indigenous  to  the  soil,  they  found  Miss  Netty  Pompilard 
engaged  in  sketching.  She  ran  away  as  they  approached,  pre- 
suming, like  a  sensible  young  person,  that  she  could  be  spared. 
Even  the  mocking-bird,  Clara's  old  friend  Dainty,  who  pecked 
at  a  peach  in  his  cage,  seemed  to  understand  that  his  noisy 
voluntaries  must  now  be  hushed. 

The  promenaders  sat  down  on  a  rustic  bench. 
"  Well,  Clara,"  said  Vance,  "  I  have  heard  to-day  gi-eat  and 
inspiring  news.  It  almost  made  me  feel  as  if  I  could  afford  to 
stop  short  in  my  work,  and  to  be  content,  should  I,  like  Moses, 
be  suffered  only  to  see  the  promised  land  with  my  eyes,  but  not 
to  '  go  over  thither.'  " 

"  To  what  do  you  allude  ?  " 

"To-morrow   President   Lincoln   issues  a  proclamation  of 
prospective  emancipation  to  the  slaves  of  the  Rebel  States.'* 


486  PKCULIAR. 

"  Good  ! "  cried  Clara,  giving  him  her  hand  for  a  grasp  of 
congratulation. 

"  But  I  foresee,"  said  Vance,  "  that  there  is  much  yet  to  be 
done  before  it  can  be  eifective,  and  I  've  come  to  bid  you  a 
long,  perhaps  a  last  farewell." 

Clara  said  not  a  word,  but  ran  out  of  the  summer-house 
below  the  bank  into  a  little  thicket  that  hid  her  entirely  from 
view.  Here  she  caught  at  the  white  tinink  of  a  birch,  and 
leaning  her  forehead  against  it,  wept  passionately  for  some 
time.  Vance  sat  wondering  at  her  disappearance.  Ten  min- 
utes passed,  and  she  did  not  return.  He  rose  to  seek  her, 
when  suddenly  he  saw  her  climbing  leisurely  up  the  bank,  a 
few  wild-flowers  in  her  hand.  There  was  no  vestige  of  emo- 
tion  in  her  face. 

"  You  wondered  at  my  quitting  you  so  abruptly,"  she  said. 
"  I  thought  of  some  fringed  gentians  in  bloom  below  there,  and 
I  ran  to  gather  them  for  you.    Are  they  not  of  a  lovely  blue  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Vance,  not  wholly  deceived  by  her  calm, 
assured  manner. 

"  So  you  really  mean  to  leave  us  ? "  she  said,  smiling  and 
looking  him  full  in  the  face.     "  I  'm  very  sorry  for  it." 

"  So  am  I,  Clara,  for  it  would  be  very  delightful  to  settle 
down  amid  scenes  like  these  and  lead  a  life  of  meditative  leis- 
ure. But  not  yet  can  I  hope  for  my  discharge.  My  country 
needs  every  able-bodied  son.  I  must  do  what  I  best  can  to 
serve  her.  But  first  let  me  give  you  a  few  words  of  advice. 
Your  Trustees  tell  me  you  have  been  spending  money  at  such 
a  fearful  rate,  that  they  have  been  compelled  to  refuse  your 
calls.  To  this  you  object.  Let  me  beg  you  to  asquiesce  with 
cheerfulness.  They  ai-e  gentlemen,  liberal  and  patriotic.  They 
have  consented  to  your  giving  yom-  aunt  this  splendid  estate 
and  the  means  of  supporting  it.  They  have  allowed  you  to 
bestow  portentous  sums  in  charity,  and  for  the  relief  of  sick 
and  wounded  soldiers.  I  hear,  too,  that  3Iiss  Tremaiue  has 
sent  to  you  for  aid." 

"  Yes  ;  her  mother  is  dead,  and  her  father  has  failed.  Tliey 
are  quite  poor." 

"  So  you  've  sent  her  a  couple  of  thousand  dollai-s.  The  first 
pauper  you  shall  meet  v.ill  have  as  much  claim  on  you  as  she. 


AN  AUTUMNAL  VISIT.  487 

Would  I  check  that  divine  propensity  of  your  nature,  —  the 
desire  to  bestow  ?  O  never,  never  !  Far  from  it !  Cherish 
it,  my  dear  cliild.  Believe  in  it.  Find  your  constant  delight 
in  it.  But  be  reasonable.  Consider  your  own  future.  A  little 
computation  will  show  you  that,  at  the  present  rate,  it  will  not 
take  you  ten  years  to  get  rid  of  all  your  money.  You  will 
soon  have  suitors  in  plenty.  Indeed,  I  hear  that  some  very 
formidable  ones  are  already  making  refconnoissances,  although 
they  find  to  their  despair  that  the  porter  forbids  them  entrance 
unless  they  come  on  crutches  ;  and  I  hear  you  send  word  to 
your  serenaders,  to  take  their  music  to  the  banks  of  the  Poto- 
mac. But  your  time  will  soon  come,  Clara.  You  will  be 
married.  (Please  not  pull  that  fringed  gentian  to  pieces  in 
that  barbarous  way !)  You  will  have  your  own  tasteful,  mu- 
nificent, and  hospitable  home.  Reserve  to  yourself  the  power 
to  make  it  all  that,  and  do  not  be  wise  too  late." 

"  And  is  there  nothing  I  can  do,  Mr.  Vance,  to  let  you  see  I 
have  some  little  gratitude  for  all  that  you  have  done  for  me  ?  " 

"  Ah  !  I  shall  quote  Rochefoucault  against  you,  if  you  say 
that.  '  Too  great  eagerness  to  requite  an  obligation  is  a  species 
of  ingratitude.'  All  that  I  've  done  is  but  a  partial  repayment 
of  the  debt  I  owed  your  mother's  father ;  for  I  owed  him  my 
life.  Besides,  you  pay  me  every  time  you  help  the  brave  fellow 
whose  wound  or  whose  malady  was  got  in  risking  all  for  country 
and  for  justice." 

"  We  must  think  of  each  other  often,"  sighed  Clara. 

"  That  we  cannot  fail  to  do,"  said  Vance.  "  There  are  inci- 
dents in  our  past  that  will  compel  a  frequent  interchange  of 
remembrances ;  and  to  me  they  will  be  very  dear.  Besides, 
from  every  soul  of  a  good  man  or  woman,  with  whom  I  have 
ever  been  brought  in  communication  (either  by  visible  pres- 
ence or  through  letters  or  books),  I  unwind  a  subtile  filament 
which  keeps  us  united,  and  never  fails.  I  meet  one  whose 
society  I  would  court,  but  cannot,  —  we  part,  —  one  thinks  of 
the  other,  '  How  indifferent  he  or  she  seemed  ! '  or  '  Why  did 
we  not  grow  more  intunate  ? '  And  yet  a  friendship  that  shall 
outlast  the  sun  may  have  been  unconsciously  formed." 

"  You  must  write  me,"  said  Clara. 

"  I  'm  a  poor  correspondent,"  replied  Vance  ;  ''  but  I  shall 


188  PECULIAR. 

obey.  And  now  my  watch  tells  me  I  must  go.  I  start  in  a 
few  hours  for  Washington." 

They  strolled  back  to  the  house.  Vance  took  leave  of  all 
the  inmates,  not  forgetting  Esha.  He  went  to  Hyde's  cottage, 
and  had  an  affectionate  parting  with  that  worthy ;  and  then 
drove  to  a  curve  in  the  road  where  Clara  stood  waiting  solitary 
to  exchange  tlie  final  farewell. 

It  was  on  an  an'cnue  through  the  primeval  forest,  having  on 
either  side  a  strip  of  greensward  edged  ])y  pine-trees,  odorous 
and  thick,  which  had  carpeted  the  gi'ound  here  and  there  with 
their  leafy  needles  of  the  last  years  growth,  now  brown  and  diy. 

The  mild,  post-equinoctial  sunshine  was  flooding  the  middle 
of  the  road,  but  Clara  stood  on  the  sward  in  tlie  shade.  Vance 
dismounted  from  his  carriage  and  drew  near.  All  Clara's 
beauty  seemed  to  culminate  for  that  trial.  A  smile  adorably 
tender  lighted  up  her  features.  Vance  felt  that  he  was  treading 
on  enchanted  gi'ound,  and  that  the  atmosphere  swam  with  the 
rose-hues  of  young  romance.  The  gates  of  Paradise  seemed 
opening,  while  a  Peri,  with  hand  extended,  offered  to  be  liis 
guide.  Youth  and  glad  Desire  rushed  back  into  that  inner 
chamber  of  his  heart  sacred  to  a  love  ineffably  precious. 

Clai-a  put  out  her  hand ;  but  why  was  it  that  this  time  it  was 
her  right  hand,  when  heretofore,  ever  since  her  rescue  in  New 
Orleans,  she  had  always  given  the  left  ? 

Eather  high  up  on  the  wrist  of  the  right  was  a  bracelet ;  a 
bracelet  of  that  soft,  fine  hair  famihar  to  Vance.  He  recog- 
nized it  now,  and  the  teai*s  threatened  to  ovei*flow.  Lifting  the 
wiist  to  his  lips  he  kissed  it,  and  then,  with  a  "  God  keep 
you ! "  entered  the  carriage,  and  was  whirled  away. 

"  It  was  the  bracelet,  not  the  wrist,  he  kissed,"  sighed  Clara. 


TIME  DISCOVERS  AND  COVERS.  489 

CHAPTER    XLVIII. 

TIME  DISCOVERS  AND  COVERS. 

"  Crito.    How  and  where  shall  we  bury  you  ? 

"  Socrates.  Bury  me  in  any  way  you  please,  if  you  can  catch  me  to  bury.  Crito  ob- 
stinately thinks,  my  friends,  I  am  that  which  he  shall  shortly  behold  dead.  Say  rather, 
Crito,  —  say  if  you  love  me,  'Where  shall  I  bury  your  body' ;  and  I  will  answer  you, 
♦  Bury  it  in  any  manner  and  in  any  place  you  please.'  "  —  Plato. 

ON  rolled  the  months,  nor  slackened  their  speed  because 
of  the  sufferings  and  the  sighings  with  which  thej  went 
freighted.  Almost  every  day  brought  its  battle  or  its  skirmish. 
Almost  every  day  men,  —  sometimes  many  hundreds,  —  would 
be  shot  dead,  or  be  wounded  and  borne  away  in  ambulances  or 
on  stretchers,  not  grudging  the  sacrifices  they  had  made. 

0  precious  blood,  not  vainly  shed  !  0  bereaved  hearts,  not 
unprofitably  stricken  !  Do  not  doubt  there  shall  be  compen- 
sation. Do  not  doubt  that  every  smallest  effort,  though  seem- 
ingly fruitless,  rendered  to  the  right,  shall  be  an  imperishable 
good  both  to  yourselves  and  others. 

On  rolled  the  months,  bringing  alternate  triumph  and  disas- 
ter, radiance  and  gloom,  to  souls  waiting  the  salvation  of  the 
Lord.  The  summer  of  1863  had  come.  There  had  been  lau- 
rels for  Murfreesboro'  and  crape  for  Chancellorville.  Vickslmrg 
and  Port  Hudson  yet  trembled  in  the  balance.  Pennsylvania 
was  threatened  with  a  Rebel  invasion.  The  Emancipation 
Proclamation,  gradual  as  the  gi-eat  processes  of  nature,  was 
working  its  way,  though  not  in  the  earthquake  nor  in  the  fire. 
Black  regiments  had  been  enlisted,  and  were  beginning  to  an- 
swer the  question.  Will  the  negro  fight  ? 

On  the  sixth  of  June,  1863,  a  cavalry  force  of  Rebels  made 
their  appearance  some  four  miles  from  Milliken's  Bend  on  the 
JMississippi,  and  attacked  and  di-ove  a  greatly  inferior  Union 
force,  composed  mainly  of  the  Tenth  Illinois  cavalry. 

Suddenly  there  rose  up  in  their  path,  as  if  from  the  soil,  two 
hundred  and  fifty  black  soldiers.      They  belonged  to  the  Elev- 

21* 


490  PECUUAK. 

enth  Louisiana  African  regiment,  and  were  under  the  cominand 
of  Colonel  Lieb.  They  had  never  been  in  a  fight  before.  The 
"  chivalry  "  came  on,  expecting  to  see  their  former  bondsmen 
crouch  and  tremble  at  the  first  imperious  word  ;  but.  to  the  dis- 
may of  the  Rebels,  they  were  met  with  such  splendid  bravery, 
that  they  turned  and  fled,  and  the  Illinois  men  were  saved. 

The  next  day  nine  hundred  and  forty-one  troops  of  African 
descent  had  a  hand-to-hand  engagement  with  a  Texan  brigade, 
commanded  by  McCulloch,  which  numbered  eighteen  hundred 
and  sixty-five.  Three  hundred  and  forty -five  of  the  colored 
troops  were  killed  or  wounded,  though  not  till  they  had  put 
hors  de  combat  twice  that  number  of  Rebels.  The  gunboat 
Choctaw  finally  came  up  to  diive  off  the  enemy. 

Conspicuous  for  intrepid  conduct  on  both  these  occasions 
was  a  black  man,  slightly  above  the  middle  height,  but  broad- 
shouldered,  well-formed,  and  athletic.  Across  his  left  cheek 
was  a  scar  as  if  from  a  sabre-cut.  This  man  had  received  the 
name  of  Peculiar  Institution,  but  he  was  familiarly  called 
Peek.  On  the  second  day  his  words  and  his  example  had  in- 
spired the  men  of  his  comjDany  with  an  almost  superhuman 
corn-age.  Bravely  they  stood  theii-  ground,  and  nowhere  else 
on  the  field  did  so  many  of  the  enemy's  dead  attest  the  valor 
of  these  undrilled  Africans. 

One  youth,  apparently  not  seventeen,  had  fought  by  Peek's 
side  and  mider  his  eye  with  heroic  defiance  of  danger.  At  last, 
Aenturing  too  far  from  the  ranks,  he  got  engaged  with  two 
Rebel  officers  in  a  hand-to-hand  encounter,  and  was  wounded. 
Peek  saw  his  danger,  rushed  to  his  aid,  parried  a  blow  aimed 
at  the  lad's  life,  and  shot  one  of  the  infuriate  officers ;  but  as 
he  was  bearing  the  youth  back  into  the  ranks,  he  was  himself 
wounded  in  the  side,  and  fell  with  his  burden. 

The  boy's  wound- was  not  serious.  He  and  Peek  were  borne 
within  the  protection  of  the  guns  of  the  Choctaw.  They  lay 
in  the  shade  cast  by  the  Levee.  The  surgeon  looked  at  Peek's 
wound,  and  shook  his  head.  Then  turning  to  the  boy  he  ex- 
claimed, "  Why,  Sterling,  is  this  you  ?  " 

At  the  name  of  SterKng,  Peek  had  roused  himself  and 
turned  a  gaze,  at  once  of  awe  and  curiosity,  on  the  youth ; 
then  sending  the  surgeon  to  another  sufferer,  bad  beckoned  to 
the  boy  to  draw  ueai*. 


TIME  DISCOVEKS  AKD   COVERS.  491 

"  Is  your  name  Sterling  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Where  were  you  born  ?  " 

"  In  Montreal." 

"And  your  mother's  name  was  Flora  Jacobs,  and  your 
father's  —  Sterling  !     /  am  your  father  !  " 

Profoundly  overcome  by  the  disclosure,  the  boy  was  speech- 
less for  a  time  with  agitation.  But  Peek  pressed  him  to  tell 
of  his  mother.    "  And  be  quick,  Sterling ;  for  my  time  is  short." 

We  need  not  give  the  boy's  narrative  in  liis  own  words, 
interrupted  as  it  was  by  the  inquiries  put  by  Peek,  while  his 
life-blood  was  ebbing.  The  story  which  Clara  Berwick  had 
heard  at  school,  and  communicated  to  Mrs.  Gentry,  was  the 
story  of  Flora  Jacobs.  Those  who  hate  to  think  ill  of  slavery 
sneer  at  such  reports  as  the  exaggerations  of  romance  ;  but  the 
great  heart  of  humanity  will  need  no  testimony  to  show  that,  in 
the  nature  of  things,  they  must  be  too  often  true.  . 

Flora  and  Sterling,  mother  and  son,  were  held  as  slaves  by 
one  Floyd  in  Alabama.  Flora  had  religiously  kept  her  oath 
of  fidelity  to  Peek,  much  to  the  chagrin  and  indignation  of  her 
master,  who  saw  that  he  was  losing  at  least  fifty  per  cent  on 
his  investment,  through  her  stubborn  resistance  to  his  demands 
that  she  should  increase  and  multiply  after  the  fashion  of  his 
Alderneys  and  Durhams.  At  last  it  happened  that  Sterling, 
who  had  been  inspired  by  his  mother  with  the  desire  to  seek 
his  father,  ran  away,  was  retaken,  and  tied  up  for  a  whipping. 
Ten  lashes  had  been  given,  and  had  drawn  blood.  And  there 
were  to  be  one  hundred  and  ninety  more  !  The  mother,  in  an 
agony,  interceded.  There  was  only  one  way  by  which  she 
could  save  him.  She  must  marry  coachman  George.  She 
consented.  But  a  month  afterwards  Floyd  learnt  that  Flora 
had  made  the  marriage  practically  null,  and  had  not  suffered 
coachman  George  to  touch  even  the  hem  of  her  robe.  Floyd 
was  enraged.  He  wrought  upon  the  evil  passions  of  George. 
There  were  first  threats,  and  then  an  attempt  at  violence. 
The  attempt  was  baffled  by  Flora's  inflicting  upon  herself  a 
mortal  stab.  As  she  fell  on  the  floor  she  marked  upon  it  with 
her  own  blood  a  cross,  and  kissed  it  with  her  last  breath. 

"  'T  is  all  right,  —  all  just  as  it  should  be,"  murmured  Peek. 


492  PECULIAR. 

"  Gk)d  knew  best.  Bless  him  always  for  this  meeting,  Sterling. 
Hold  the  napkin  closer  to  the  wound.  There !  I  knew  she 
would  be  true  !  So !  Take  the  belt  from  under  my  vest. 
Easy !  It  contains  a  hundred  dollars.  'T  is  yours.  Take 
the  watch  from  the  pocket.  So  !  A  handsome  gold  one,  you 
see.  'T  was  given  me  by  Mr.  Vance.  The  name  's  engraved 
on  it.  Can  you  write  ?  Good.  Your  mother  taught  you. 
Write  by  the  next  mail  to  William  C.  Vance,  Washington, 
D.  C.  Tell  him  what  has  happened.  Tell  him  how  your 
mother  died.  He  '11  be  your  friend.  You  fought  bravely,  my 
son.  What  sweetness  God  puts  into  this  moment !  Take  no 
trouble  about  the  body  I  leave  behind.  Any  trench  will  do  for 
it.  Fight  on  for  freedom  and  the  right.  Slaveiy  must  die. 
All  wrong  must  die.  You  can't  wrong  even  a  woitq  without 
wi'onging  yourself  more  than  it.  Remember  that.  Holy  li\  - 
ing  makes  holy  believing.  Charity  first.  Think  to  shut  out 
others  from  heaven,  and  the  danger  is  great  you  '11  shut  your- 
self out.  Don't  strike  for  revenge.  Slay  because  't  is  God's 
cause  on  earth  you  defend  ;  and  don't  fight  unless  you  see  and 
believe  that  much,  let  who  may  command.  Love  Hfe.  'T  is 
God's  gift  and  opportunity.  The  more  you  suffer,  the  more, 
my  dear  boy,  you  can  show  you  prize  life,  not  for  the  world's 
goods,  but  for  that  love  of  God,  which  is  heaven,  —  Christ's 
heaven.  Think.  Not  to  think  is  to  be  a  brute.  Learn 
something  eveiy  day.  Love  all  that 's  good  and  fair.  Love 
music.  Love  flowers.  Don't  be  so  childish  as  to  suppose 
that  because  you  don't  hear  or  see  spirits,  they  don't  hear 
and  see  you.  Remember  that  your  mother  and  I  can  watch 
you,  —  can  know  your  every  thought.  You  '11  grieve  us  if 
you  do  wrong.  You  11  make  us  very  happy  if  you  do  right. 
Ah  I  The  napkin  has  slipped.  No  matter.  There !  Let 
the  blood  ooze.  See  !  Sterling  !  Look  !  There  !  Do  you 
not  see  ?  They  come.  The  angels  !  Your  mother  —  my 
mother  —  and  beyond  there,  high  up  there  —  one  —  Ah,  God ! 
Tell  ]Mi\  Vance  —  tell  him  —  his  —  his  — " 

Peek  stood  up  erect,  lifted  his  clasped  hands  above  his  head, 
looked  beyond  them  as  if  watching  some  beatific  vision,  then 
di'opped  his  mortal  body  dead  upon  the  earth. 


EYES  TO  THE  BLIND.  493 

CHAPTER    XLIX. 

EYES  TO  THE   BLIND. 

"  Farewell  !    The  passion  of  long  years  I  pour 
Into  that  word  !  "  —  Mrs.  Hemans. 
"  Heureux  I'homme  qu'un  doux  hymen  unira  avec  elle  !  11  n'aura  i  craindre  que  de  la 
perdre  et  de  lui  survivre."  —  Fenelon. 

IT  was  that  Fourth  of  July,  1863,  when  every  sincere  friend 
of  the  Great  Republic  felt  his  heart  beat  high  with  min- 
gled hope  and  apprehension.  Tremendous  issues,  which  must 
affect  the  people  of  the  American  continent  through  all  coming 
time,  were  in  the  balance  of  Fate,  and  the  capricious  chances 
of  war  might  turn  the  scale  on  either  side.  Gettysburg,  Vicks- 
burg,  Port  Hudson,  Helena !  The  great  struggles  that  were 
to  make  these  places  memorable  had  reached  their  culminating 
and  critical  point,  but  were  as  yet  undecided. 

Lee's  Rebel  army  of  invasion,  highly  disciplined,  and  num- 
bering nearly  a  hundred  thousand  men,  was  marching  into 
Pennsyhania.  General  Lee  assured  his  friends  he  should 
remain  North  just  as  long  as  he  wished ;  that  there  was  no 
earthly  power  strong  enough  to  drive  him  back  across  the 
Potomac.  He  expected  ''to  march  on  Baltimore  and  occupy 
it ;  then  to  march  on  Washington  and  dictate  terms  of  peace." 

Such  was  Lee's  plan.  Its  success  depended  on  his  defeat- 
ing the  Union  army;    and  of  that  he  felt  certain. 

The  loyal  North  was  unusually  reticent  and  grave ;  "  troub- 
led on  every  side,  yet  not  distressed ;  perplexed,  but  not  in 
despair."  A  change  of  commanders  in  the  army  of  the  Poto- 
mac, when  just  on  the  eve  of  the  decisive  contest,  added  to  the 
general  seriousness. 

Clara,  since  her  parting  from  Vance,  had  addressed  herself 
thoughtfully  to  the  business  of  life.  Duties  actively  discharged 
had  brought  with  them  their  reAvard  in  a  diffusive  cheerfulness. 

On  the  morning  of  that  eventful  Fourth  of  July,  the  ringing 
of  bells  and  the  lirincf  of   cannon  roused  her  from  slumber 


494  PECULIAR. 

somewhat  earlier  than  usual.  On  the  piazza  she  met  Netty 
Pompilard,  and  Mary  and  Julia  Ireton,  and  Master  and  Miss 
Purhng.  and  they  all  strolled  to  the  river's  side.  —  then  honiQ 
to  breakfast,  —  then  out  to  the  mown  field  by  the  orchard, 
where  a  mammoth  tent  had  been  erected,  and  servants  were 
spreading  tables  for  the  day's  entertainment,  to  be  given  by 
Clara  to  all  the  poor  and  rich  of  the  neighborliood.  Colonel 
Hyde,  having  been  commissioned  to  superintend  the  arrange- 
ments, was  here  in  liis  glory,  and  not  a  little  of  his  importance 
was  reflected  on  the  busy  cripple,  his  nephew. 

Clara's  thoughts,  however,  were  at  Gettysburg,  where  bravo 
men  were  giving  up  their  lives  and  exposing  themselves  to  ter- 
rible, life-wasting  wounds,  in  order  that  we  at  liome  might  live 
in  peace  and  have  a  country,  free  and  undishonored.  She 
thought  of  Vance.  She  knew  he  had  resigned  his  colonelcy, 
and  was  now  employed  in  the  important  and  hazardous,  thougli 
untrumpeted  labors  of  a  scout  or  spy,  for  which  he  felt  that  his 
old  practice  as  an  actor  had  given  him  some  aptitude.  "We 
subjoin  a  few  fragmentary  extracts  from  the  last  letter  she  had 
received  from  him  :  — 

"  Poor  Peek,  —  rather  let  me  say  fortunate  Peek  !  He  fell 
nobly,  as  he  always  desired  to  fall,  in  the  cause  of  freedom  and 
humanity.  His  son.  Sterling,  is  now  ^vith  me ;  a  bright,  brave 
little  fellow,  who  is  already  a  great  comfort  and  help." 

"  Until  the  North  are  as  much  in  earnest  for  the  right  as  the 
South  are  for  the  wrong,  we  must  not  expect  to  see  an  end  to 
this  war.  It  is  not  enough  to  say,  '  Our  cause  is  just.  Provi- 
dence will  put  it  through.'  If  we  don't  think  tlie  right  and  the 
just  worth  making  great  sacrifices  for,  —  worth  risking  life  and 
fortune  for,  —  we  repel  that  aid  from  Heaven  which  we  lazily 
claim  as  our  due.  God  gives  Satan  power  to  try  the  nations 
as  he  once  tried  Job.  '  Skin  for  skin,'  says  Satan ;  '  yea,  all 
that  a  man  hath  -svill  he  give  for  his  life.'  Unless  we  have 
pluck  enough  to  disprove  the  Satanic  imputation,  and  to  show 
we  prize  God's  kingdom  on  earth  more  than  we  do  life  or  limb 
or  worldly  store,  then  it  is  not  a  good  cause  that  will  save  us, 
but  a  sordid  spirit  that  will  ruin  us.  O  for  a  return  of  that 
inspiration  which  filled  us  when  the  first  bombardment  of 
Sumter  smote  on  our  ears  ! " 

"  The  President  will  soon  call  for  three  hundred  thousand 
more  volunteers.      0  women  of  the  North  !  —  ye  whose  heart- 


EYES  TO  THE  BLIND.  495 

wisdom  foreruns  the  slow  processes  of  our  masculine  reason,  — 
lend  yourselves  forthwith  to  the  great  W3rk  of  raising  this  force 
and  sending  it  to  lill  up  our  depleted  armies." 

'^  This  Upas-tree  of  slavery  is  now  girdled,  they  tell  us. 
'Why  not  leave  it  to  the  winds  of  heaven  to  blow  down?' 
But  if  this  wliirlwind  of  civil  war  can't  do  it,  don't  trust  to  the 
zeph\TS  of  peace.  No  !  The  President's  proclamation  must 
be  carried  mto  effect  on  every  plantation,  in  every  dunc^eou, 
where  a  slave  exists.  Better  that  this  generation  should  go 
down  Avith  harness  on  to  its  grave,  and  that  war  should  be  the 
normal  state  of  the  next  generation,  than  that  we  should  fail  in 
our  pledged  faith  to  the  poor  victims  of  oppression  whose  mas- 
ters have  brought  the  sword." 

The  grand  entertainment  under  the  tent  lasted  late  into  the 
afternoon.  An  excellent  band  of  music  was  present,  and  as 
the  tunes  were  selected  by  Clara,  they  were  all  good.  Pompi- 
lard  was,  of  course,  a  prominent  figure  at  the  table.  He  was 
toast-master,  speech-maker,  and  general  entertainer.  He  said 
pleasant  tilings  to  the  women  and  found  amusements  for  the 
cliildi-en.  He  complimented  "the  gallant  Colonel  Hyde"  on 
his  "  very  admirable  arrangements  "  for  their  comfort ;  and  the 
Colonel  replied  in  a  speech,  in  which  he  declared  that  much  of 
the  honor  belonged  to  his  sister  Dorothy,  and  his  nephew,  An- 
drew Jackson. 

In  a  high-flown  tribute  to  the  Emerald  Isle,  "  the  land  of  the 
Emmetts  and  of  that  brave  hater  of  slavery,  O'Connell," 
Pompilard  called  up  Maloney,  who,  in  a  fiery  little  harangue, 
showed  that  he  did  not  lack  that  gift  of  extemporaneous  elo- 
quence which  the  Currans  and  the  Grattans  used  so  lavisldy  to 
exliibit.     The  band  played  "  Rory  O'More." 

A  compliment  to  "  the  historian  of  the  war "  called  up 
Purling,  who,  in  the  lack  of  one  arm,  made  the  other  do  double 
duty  in  gesticukting.  He  was  cheered  to  his  heart's  content. 
The  band  played  "  Hail  Columbia." 

A  compliment  to  the  absent  Captain  Delancy  Hyde  Rusk 
drew  from  his  uncle  this  sentmient :  '•  The  poor  whites  of  the 
South !  may  the  Lord  open  their  eyes  and  send  them  plenty  of 
soap  ! "     The  band  played  "  Dixie." 

A  venerable  clergyman  present,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Beitler,  now 
rose  and  gave  "  The  memory  of  our  fallen  brave  ! "     This  was 


496  PECULIAR. 

drunk  standing  in  solemn  silence,  with  heads  uncovered.  But 
Mrs.  Ireton  and  Clara  vainly  put  their  handkerchiefs  to  their 
faces  to  keep  back  their  sobs.  By  a  secret  sympathy  they 
sought  each  other,  and  sat  down  under  a  tree  where  they  could 
be  somewhat  retired  from  the  rest.  Esha  drew  near,  but  had 
too  much  tact  to  disturb  them. 

It  was  four  o'clock  when  a  courier  was  seen  running  toward 
the  assembled  company.  He  came  with  an  "  Extra,"  contain- 
ing that  telegraphic  despatch  from  the  President  of  tlie  United 
States,  flashed  over  the  wires  that  day,  giving  comforting  assur- 
ances from  Gettysburg.  Pompilard  stood  on  a  chair  and  pro- 
posed a  succession  of  cheers,  which  were  vociferously  delivered. 
Clara  and  Mrs.  Ireton  dried  their  tears  and  partook  of  the 
general  joy.  Then  rapping  on  the  table,  Pompilard  obtained 
profound  silence  ;  and  the  old  clergyman,  kneeling,  addressed 
the  Throne  of  Grace  in  words  of  thankfulness  that  found  a 
response  in  every  heart.  The  day's  amusements  ended  in  a 
stroll  of  the  company  through  the  beautiful  grounds. 

After  the  glory  the  grief.  No  sooner  was  it  known  that  Lee, 
whipped  and  crestfallen,  was  retreating,  than  there  was  a  call 
for  succor  to  the  wounded  and  the  dying.  Clara,  under  the 
escort  of  JNIajor  Purling  (who  was  eager  to  glean  materials 
for  the  great  history)  went  immediately  to  Gettysburg.  She 
visited  the  churches  (converted  into  hospitals),  where  wounded 
men,  close  as  they  could  lie,  were  heroically  enduring  the 
sharpest  sufferings.  She  labored  to  increase  their  accommoila- 
tions.  If  families  would  n't  give  up  their  houses  for  love,  then 
they  must  for  money.  Yes,  money  can  do  it.  She  drew  on  her 
trustees  till  they  were  frightened  at  the  repetition  of  big  figures 
in  her  drafts.  She  soothed  the  d^dng  ;  she  made  provision  for 
the  wounded ;  she  ordered  the  wholesomest  viands  for  those 
who  could  eat. 

On  the  third  day  she  met  Mrs.  Charlton  and  her  daughter, 
and  they  affectionately  renewed  their  acquaintance.  As  they 
walked  together  through  a  hospital  they  had  not  till  tlien  en- 
tered, Clara  suddeidy  started  back  v^dth  emotion  and  turned 
deadly  pale.  But  for  Major  Purling's  support  she  would  have 
fallen.     Tears  came  to  her  relief,  and  she  rallied. 

What  wa.s  the  matter  ? 


EYES  TO  THE  BLIND.  497 

On  one  of  the  iron  beds  lay  a  captain  of  artillery.  He  did 
not  appear  to  be  wounded.  He  lay,  as  if  suffering  more  from 
exhaustion  than  from  physical  pain.  And  yet,  on  looking  closer, 
you  saw  from  the  glassy  unconsciousness  of  his  eyes  tliat  the 
poor  man  was  blind.  But  O  that  expression  of  sweet  resigna- 
tion and  patient  submission  !  It  was  better  than  a  prayer  to 
look  on  it.  It  touched  deeper  than  any  exhortiition  from 
holiest  lips.  It  spoke  of  an  inward  reign  of  divinest  repose ; 
of  a  land  more  beautiful  than  any  the  external  vision  ever 
looked  on  ;  of  that  peace  of  God  which  passeth  all  understand- 
ing. 

Clara  recognized  in  it  the  face  of  Claries  Kenrick.  A  can- 
non-ball had  passed  before  his  eyes,  and  the  shock  from  the 
concussion  of  air  had  paralyzed  the  optic  nerves.  The  sur- 
geons gave  him  little  hope  of  ever  recovering  his  sight. 

For  some  private  reason,  best  known  to  herself^  Clara  did 
not  make  herself  known  to  Kenrick.  She  did  not  even  inform 
any  one  that  she  knew  him.  She  induced  Lucy  Charlton  to 
minister  to  his  wants.  On  Lucy's  asking  him  what  she  could 
do  (for  she  did  not  know  he  was  Onslow's  friend),  he  said, 
"If  you  can  pen  a  letter  for  me,  I  shall  be  much  obliged." 

"  Certainly,"  said  she ;  "  and  my  friend  here  shairhold  the 
ink  while  I  write." 

She  received  from  the  hands  of  her  maid  in  attendance  a 
portfolio  with  which  she  had  come  provided,  anticipating  such 
requests.  She  then  took  a  seat  by  his  side,  while  Clara  sat  at 
the  foot  of  the  cot,  where  she  could  look  in  his  blind,  uncon- 
scious face,  and  wipe  away  her  tears  unseen. 

"  I  'm  ready,"  said  Lucy.     And  he  dictated  as  follows  :  — 

«My  dear  Cousin:  I  received  last  night  your  letter  from 
Meade  s  headquarters.  'T  was  a  comfort  to  be  assured  you 
escaped  unharmed  amid  your  many  exposures. 

"You  tell  me  I  am  put  down  in  the  reports  as  among  the 
slightly  wounded,  and  you  desire  to  know  all  the  particulai-s. 
Alas  !  I  may  say  with  the  tragic  poet,  '  My  wound  is  great 
because  it  is  so  small.'  Don't  add,  as  Johnson  once  did,  '  Then 
t  would  be  greater,  were  it  none  at  all.'  A  cannon-ball,  my 
dear  fellow,  passed  before  my  eyes,  and  the  sight  thereof  is 
extinguished  utterly.  The  handwriting  of  this  letter,  you  AviU 
perceive,  is  not  my  own. 


pp 


498  PKCULIAR. 

"  What  you  say  of  Onslow  delights  me.  So  he  lias  behaved 
nobly  before  Vicksburg,  and  is  to  be  made  a  Colonel !  The 
one  hope  of  his  heart  is  to  be  with  the  army  of  liberation  that 
shall  go  down  into  Texas.  Onslow  will  not  rest  till  he  has 
redeemed  that  bloody  soil  to  freedom,  and  put  an  end  to  the 
rule  of  the  miscreant  hangmen  of  the  State. 

"  I  said  the  one  hope  of  his  heart.  But  what  you  insinnate 
leads  me  to  suspect  there  may  be  still  another,  —  a  tender 
hope.     Can  it  be  ?     Poor  fellow !     lie  deserves  it. 

"  You  bid  me  take  courage  and  call  on  Perdita.  You  tell 
me  she  is  free  as  air,  —  that  the  bloom  is  on  the  plum  as  yet 
imtouched,  unbreathed  upon.  My  own  dear  cousin,  if  I  was 
hopeless  before  I  lost  my  eyesight,  wliat  must  I  be  now  ?  But, 
since  a  thing  of  beauty  is  a  joy  forever,  was  I  not  lucky  in 
making  her  acquaintance  before  that  cannon-ball  swept  away 
my  optic  sense  ?  Now,  as  I  rest  here  on  my  couch,  I  can  call 
up  her  charming  image,  —  nay,  I  can  hear  the  very  tones  of 
her  singing.  She  is  worthy  of  the  brilliant  inheritance  you 
were  instrumental  in  restoring  to  her.  I  shall  always  be  the 
happier  for  havmg  known  her,  even  though  the  knowing  sliould 
continue  to  be  my  disquietude. 

"  I  have  just  heai'd  from  my  father.  He  and  his  young  wife 
are  in  Richmond.  His  pecuniary  fortunes  are  at  a  very  low 
ebb.  His  slaves  were  all  liberated  last  month  by  Banks,  who 
has  anticipated  the  work  I  expected  to  do  myself.  My  father 
begins  to  be  disenchanted  in  regard  to  the  Rebellion.  He  even 
admits  that  Davis  is  n't  quite  so  remarkable  a  man  as  he  had 
supposed.  How  gladly  I  would  help  my  father  if  I  could  ! 
May  the  opportunity  be  some  day  mine.  All  I  have  ('t  is  only 
five  thousand  dollars)  shall  be  his. 

"  What  can  I  do,  my  dear  cousin,  if  I  can't  get  back  my  eye- 
sight ?  God  knows  and  cares  ;  and  I  am  content  in  that  belief. 
'  There  is  a  special  providence  in  the  falling  of  a  sparrow.' 
Am  not  I  better  than  many  sparrows  ?  '  Hence  have  I  genial 
seasons  ! '  'T  is  all  as  it  should  be  ;  and  though  He  slay  me, 
yet  ^^ill  I  trust  in  him. 

"  Farewell, 

"  Charles  Kenrick. 
«  To  William  C.  Vance." 

Several  times  during  the  dictating  of  this  letter,  Lucy  (es 
peciaJly  when  Onslow's  name  was  mentioned)  would  have  be- 
trayed both  herself  and  Clara,  had  not  the  latter  in  dumb  show 
dissuaded  her.      The  next  day  Clara  made  herself  known,-  and 


EYES   TO   THE   BLIND.  499 

introduced  Major  Purling;  but  she  did  not  allow  the  blind  man 
to  suspect  that  she  was  that  friend  of  his  unknown  amanuensis, 
who  had  "  held  the  ink." 

Her  own  persuasions,  added  to  those  of  the  Major,  forced 
Kenrick  at  last  to  consent  to  be  removed  to  Onarock.  Here, 
in  the  society  of  cheerful  Old  Age  and  congenial  Youth,  he 
rapidly  recovered  strength.  But  to  his  visual  orbs  there  re- 
turned no  light.  There  it  was  still  "dark,  dark,  dark,  amid 
the  blaze  of  noon." 

He  did  not  muiTQur  at  the  dispensation.  In  all  Clara's 
studies,  readings,  and  exercises  he  was  made  the  partaker. 
Even  the  beautiful  landscapes  on  all  sides  were  brought  vividly 
before  his  inner  eyes  by  her  graphic  words.  Along  the  river's 
bank,  and  through  the  forest  aisles,  and  along  the  garden  borders 
she  would  lead  him,  and  not  a  flower  was  beautiful  that  he  was 
not  made  to  know  it. 


It  was  the  18th  of  October,  1863,  — that  lovely  Sabbath 
which  seemed  to  have  come  down  out  of  heaven,  —  so  beauti- 
ful it  was,  —  so  calm,  so  bright,  —  so  soft  and  yet  so  exhilarat- 
ing. The  forest-trees  had  begun  to  put  on  their  autumnal 
drapery  of  many  colors.  The  maple  was  already  of  a  fiery 
scarlet ;  the  beech-leaves,  the  birch,  and  the  witch-hazel,  of  a 
pale  yellow ;  and  there  were  all  gradations  of  purple  and 
orange  among  the  hickories,  the  elms,  and  the  ashes.  The  var- 
nished leaves  of  the  oak  for  the  most  part  retained  their  green- 
ness, forming  mirrors  for  the  light  to  reflect  from,  and  flashing 
and  glistening,  as  if  for  very  joy,  under  the  bland,  indolent 
breeze.  It  was  such  weather  as  this  that  drew  from  Emer- 
son that  note,  we  can  all  respond  to,  in  our  higlier  moments  of 
intenser  life,  "  Give  me  health  and  a  day,  and  I  ^\all  make  the 
pomp  of  emperors  ridiculous." 

With  Kenrick,  even  to  his  blindness  there  came  a  sense  of 
the  beauty  and  the  glow.  He  could  enjoy  the  balmy  air,  the 
blest  poAver  of  sunshine,  the  odors  from  the  falhng  leaves  and 
the  grateful  earth.  And  what  need  of  external  vision,  since 
Clara  could  so  well  supply  its  want  ?  He  walked  forth  with 
her,  and  they  stopped  near  a  rustic  bench  overlooking  the 
Hudson,  and  sat  down. 


500  PECULIAR. 

"  Indeed  I  must  leave  you  to-morrow,"  said  he,  in  continua- 
tion of  some  previous  remark :  "  I  've  got  an  excellent  situa- 
tion as  sub-teacher  of  French  at  West  Point." 

"  O,  you  've  got  a  situation,  have  you  ?  "  returned  Clara. 

The  tears  sprang  to  her  eyes;  but,  alas  for  human  frailty! 
this  time  they  were  tears  of  vexation. 

There  was  silence  for  almost  a  minute.  Then  Kenrick  said, 
"Do  you  know  I  've  been  with  you  more  than  three  months)^" 

"  Well,"  replied  Clara,  pettishly,  "  is  tliere  anything  so  very 
surprising  or  disagreeable  in  that  ?  " 

"  But  I  fear  Onarock  will  prove  my  Capua,  —  that  it  will 
unfit  me  for  the  sterner  warfare  of  life." 

"  O,  go  to  your  sterner  warfare,  since  you  desire  it ! " 

And  -ndth  a  desperate  effort  at  nonchalance  she  swung  her 
hat  by  its  ribbon,  and  sang  that  little  air  from  "  La  Bayadere " 
by  Auber,  —  "  Je  suis  content, — je  suis  heureux." 

"  Clara,  dear  friend,  you  seem  displeased  with  me.  What 
have  I  done?" 

"  You  want  to  humiliate  me  ! "  exclaimed  Clara,  reproach- 
fully, and  bui'sting  into  a  passion  of  tears. 

"  Want  to  humiliate  you  ?     I  can't  see  how." 

"I  suppose  not,"  returned  Clara,  ironically.  "There  are 
none  so  blind  as  those  who  don't  choose  to  see." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  dear  friend  ?  " 

"  Dear  friend  indeed ! "  sobbed  Clara.  "  Is  he  as  blind  as 
he  would  have  me  think  ?  Have  n't  I  given  hints  enough,  inti- 
mations enough,  opportunities  enough  ?  Would  the  man  force 
me  to  offer  myself  outright  ?  " 

There  was  another  interval  of  silence,  and  this  time  it  lasted 
full  ten  minutes.  And  then  Kenrick,  his  breath  coming  quick, 
his  breast  heaAong,  unable  longer  to  keep  back  his  tears,  drew 
forth  his  handkerchief,  and  covering  his  face,  wept  heartily. 

He  rose  aiid  put  out  his  hand.  Clara  seized  it.  He  folded 
her  in  his  arms  ;  and  their  fii*st  kiss,  —  a  kiss  of  betrothal,  — 
was  exchanged. 

THE  END. 


Cambridge :  Stereotyped  and  Printed  by  Welch,  Bigelow,  &  Co. 


^/- 


RARE  BOOK 
COLLECTION 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT 

CHAPEL  HILL 

Wilmer 
948 


